


Azure Blue

by Me_Grimlock



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Feels, Estinien gets hugs, Eventual Smut, Features Aymeric's cat, Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Ishgardian politics, M/M, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-01-31 05:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Me_Grimlock/pseuds/Me_Grimlock
Summary: Pre-canon origin story of the beginnings of Aymeric and Estinien's relationship. Slow burn, eventual smut. Explores both character arcs. Always imagined these two getting together long before the events of the game, and there is quite a bit to suggest these two have a relationship together. So here it is. One flighty dragoon who can't do emotions and one impossibly patient knight to keep him together.





	1. Wrong Way

Aymeric pieced together the fragments in his mind on the way back to the Holy See – and they were going back to the Pillars this time. He had checked to ensure that the elation of victory hadn’t gone to Estinien’s head, and that the Knight was not just leading him to attack another dragon. Which, from what he knew of the other Elezen’s upbringing, perhaps would not be such an absurd conclusion to leap to.

He had found Estinien in shock, seemingly unconscious and suffering from a nightmare when Aymeric had roused him. The rest of their squad lay dead, and, of course, Aymeric was saddled with the one man that actually wanted to go back to the source of such a tragic battle. But the Lancer was damned talented – extraordinarily skilled, even considering that he had been taught by Alberic – Ishgard’s own former Azure Dragoon. And then there were the rumours, of course. About Ferndale. About Estinien being the only survivor and seeing his family burned by Nidhogg as a child. It was those thoughts that accompanied Aymeric when he sighed, and decided earlier to pursue Estinien and help him on his fool’s errand.

But they had slain the dragon. Estinien’s eyes were alight with a fire he had never seen before as they trudged back along the icy snows towards the stalwart gates of Ishgard. Normally, the young man seemed aloof and despondent. Always alone as he practiced his martial skills with a single-mindedness that put the other knights to shame. Aymeric had watched from afar, and had always known the man would be capable of great things. That is, only if the fool stayed alive long enough for them to happen.

“What will you tell our… next superior?” Estinien asked him, suddenly, recalling that their Captain had fallen in the recent, harrowing battle.

  
“What do you mean? I will tell him the truth. That our forces were decimated by a ferocious opponent, but that we persevered and slew it, regardless.” Estinien turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

  
“Meaning.” Aymeric continued, at his prompting. “That I will omit the part about how the dragon was wounded, and actually returned to its lair, leaving the two of us alive. And that you were… how shall I put this… zealous in your convictions enough to pursue it, concussion and all, and defeat it.”

“With your help.”

  
“Yes. With the single arrow I loosed at its eye to distract it. Enabling you to execute a dive that the former Azure Dragoon would be envious of.” Estinien grinned. It was the first time Aymeric had ever seen him do so, and he was struck then by just how glorious and radiant he looked. Almost like Haldrath come to life, though, from his reputation, if Estinien had gleaned that Aymeric harboured such thoughts, then he imagined a sour battlefield report to his Commander would be the last thing on his mind. The man had been re-stationed from unit to unit, seemingly causing problems with each one he was allocated to. From rumours, he was rash, arrogant and lacked discipline. He started fights and was contentious with Knights far more senior than he, and yet, he now actually treated Aymeric with something akin to respect.

“It was a good arrow. Eyes are a weak spot for Dravanians.” Aymeric repressed rolling his eyes – Duh! As if he didn’t know that already. Did he think he had never heard of Saint Reinette? “You saved my life. Do not think that I don’t recognise that. I will vouch that you took command and salvaged the situation and saved my life. But I want to be in your unit.” Estinien said to him.

  
“Weren’t you previously in Ser Zephirin’s squad? His unit are still at full capacity.” Estinien tapped the side of his lance thoughtfully.

  
“Is Zephirin the useless long-haired fop? Or is he the blonde fellow who yells so much he is obviously compensating for something.”

  
Aymeric stifled a snigger, knowing it was against protocol to say such things about their superiors, but knowing it to be true anyway.

  
“Ahem. The latter.” Aymeric told him with a smirk.

  
“Ah.” Estinien chewed his lip.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“I punched him in the face before this excursion. That was why they assigned me to this battle in the first place.”

  
“Ah.” Aymeric said. Estinien look to him in concern, only slightly masked by his ever-stoic features.

  
“Is that a problem?”

  
“No. Your punch couldn’t have been better placed.” Estinien barked out a laugh.

  
“You’re going to make Captain soon, Aymeric. Make sure I’m on your squad. You’ve seen me fight. You know it will be worth it.” There was an eagerness in his voice that Aymeric could scarce decline.

  
“I’m sure I can make a case for it…”

  
And thank Halone he finally remembered his name.

…

“The man is an embarrassment to the order! His discipline is barely restrained and he completely lacks any respect for the chain of command. He was dismissed because of these undesirable qualities. The man undermined Ser Jandelain’s authority, headed to the Dravanian Highlands alone, and returned with a gruesome Dravanian head as a trophy. A testament to both skill and idiocy, true, but he then challenged his superior to ‘bring back something bigger.’” The Knight Commander, Ser Eicheneux, punctuated his remark by thumping the desk beneath his gauntleted fist. “He goes off on his own, and is unable to function as a part of a unit. Bah! His lack of discipline and not knowing his place are poor qualities of a lowborn knight. He has every right to be dismissed. Why, by the grace of Halone, would you actually want him in your unit?!” The broad man thundered. Aymeric stood tall and confident before him, mildly wondering if he would ever finish his tirade.

“I have seen his lancework, and it is impressive. We have worked well together before, and I think he will thrive under someone who respects his skill.” Aymeric kept accusation from his voice as much as possible. In the last couple of months, now he had built a rapport with Estinien, he had noticed how others treated him, and it had grated on him. But now Aymeric had been promoted to Captain, he sought to allow the man to flourish under the command of someone who respected and appreciated him.

  
“Respect his… Aymeric, have you listened to a single word I have just said? He is a low-born orphan rat, why by Halone would I need to respect him?” The Knight-Commander spluttered, outraged.

  
“If he doesn’t improve under my command, then by all means, do as you planned. But I believe he will. And if you do strip him of knighthood, then I pray you are not depriving Ishgard of the finest dragoon to ever fight in our war.”

  
That gave Commander Eicheneux pause. He knew of how skilled the man was, they all did, as much as they detested to admit it.

  
“Fine, take the mad dog! Then perhaps you will understand what I mean. But you are making a grave mistake. You may be young to make Captain, Aymeric, but this man will hound your every order and undermine your every command. I promise you. You will not keep your rank long with him in your unit.”

Aymeric was dismissed, and left the room with a curt bow. He proceeded to look for Estinien to inform him that he had made good on his promise two years ago. Guessing the Forgotten Knight wouldn’t exactly be his place of choosing – as it was the place the other Knights often caroused at during their time off – he headed to towards the Gates of Judgement. Then he remembered that Estinien was Alberic’s ward, and frequently trained with him. He probably frequented Camp Dragonhead out in the highlands, undoubtedly resenting training with the other Knights.

He said a few words to the knights at Dragonhead – there were very few he didn’t know the name of, after all – and found Estinien and Alberic with some target dummies. It was the former Azure Dragoon that noticed Aymeric first, and waved him over. The newly-appointed Captain noticed the anger and vehemence with which Estinien obliterated the poor practice targets with. So much so, that the elezen did not notice Aymeric approach.

  
“Ser Aymeric, tis good to see you.” Alberic greeted. Estinien turned, sweat making the snow-white hair not in his ponytail cling to his forehead.

  
“So, good news or bad?” Estinien asked without preamble. He picked a towel, wiped his head and moved over to them.

  
“Good. You may remain in the Knights, under my command.” Aymeric began. Estinien’s brow drew together, his body tense.

  
“But…?” He asked, his gaze flicking worriedly to Alberic.

  
“But if you decide again to indulge a mad whim to embark to Dravania and bring back the still-bleeding head of a dragon, and then challenge me to bring back a bigger head, then please bear in mind that I may just take you up on such an offer.”  
It was the second time he had seen Estinien grin. And that time, Aymeric knew he was well and truly lost.


	2. Fury

Four individuals were before him, each ready for him to issue them with commands. It was a novel thing to experience, as new to command as he was. And yet, it seemed strangely right for him. Too often, Knights were rewarded and raised through the Ishgardian hierarchy by prestige of birthright more than any semblance of a head for command. Aymeric had wanted this, seeing so many low-born knights as subjugated by the high-born as he had. And he wanted to change such things. But to do that, he needed to be in a position of authority where he would be able to implement reform.

Pertricia was one such individual that Aymeric strove to improve the lot of. She was from the Brume, and had only been initiated in the Holy See when she used her own body to shield some high-born’s child from a toppling building during a Dravanian attack. The scars were covered up by armour and her helm, but she was still a bulwark – exceptionally talented with a sword and shield, and as solid as they came. 

Firmalbert was young, and with a heroic idealism that was younger still. And yet, his gladius aimed true, and he stood fast in the face of the enemy. He had seen a few shaky missions, and had returned from each one with even higher convictions. Though born of a retainer of House Haillenarte, he never failed to treat everyone with the same courtesy. A most rare quality in Ishgardians.

Maillenette had recently returned from service at the Steel Vigil. She was a younger daughter of House Dzemael, and though not without her prejudices, Aymeric suspected that she was not so far gone that she could not be dissuaded from the traditional disdain that the high-born treated the others with. Though practiced with a bow, she had taken up with the Machinist’s Guild, and had a steel-barrelled carbine swinging from her hip. But she was still learning with the weapon, and usually reached for her bow out of familiarity. 

And Estinien, of course. Certainly the most skilled dragoon Aymeric had seen, and not yet initiated into their Order properly due to his record. Although, he did have a dragoon soul stone that enabled him to perform the most spectacular dives. Most likely as a result of Alberic’s influence. This was the first day their unit would be out on a mission together, and he prayed to Halone that the group was a good fit for him. He deserved better than the incompetent Captains he had been under previously. 

“We are to head to Twinpools in the Highlands and dispatch the Aevis harrying the supply lines in the area. Afterwards, we have been requested to head to the Convictory and report to the Commander there for any assistance. During our journey, I want us training daily so that we can get to know each other as a unit. Additionally, our rations will only last for six days, so we will need to hunt down our own supplies in order to provision ourselves. Any questions?”

“Surely my House can provide further provisions? Must we hunt for our own food like scavengers?” Maillenette stated, her face scrunched in distaste. Aymeric suppressed a sigh.

“Self-sufficiency and independence is another skill we must learn in order to achieve our potential as knights. If we rely heavily on others, then how can we then see our own accomplishments?” Aymeric told her. Maillenette conceded his point with a shrug. 

“Anything else?”

“When do we leave?” Estinien asked eagerly, his hand itching ever so slightly toward his lance.

“As soon as we are packed.”  
…  
Estinien flicked aside one of the practice arrows out of the air as if it was no great deal. Maillenette’s eyes widened as she looked down at the sliced open shaft on the ground. It was that which cost her, and ultimately ended with the dragoon’s lance poised at her throat. She had insisted that their spar begin several yalms from one another, so that her expertise with ranged weaponry be given a chance before Estinien could close in for melee combat. And still, she had lost. 

“Maillenette, a lapse in concentration like that could always be the difference between life and death.” Aymeric reprimanded, watching from the side. 

“Didn’t even need to jump.” Estinien remarked smugly. 

“And nor would you be allowed to in a spar. Such a thing is the cause of far too many injuries.”

“The Dragoon Order allow it.”

“And we don’t. I don’t doubt you will be with the dragoons soon enough, Estinien, with skill such as yours.” Aymeric said to him. Maillenette headed over to the practice arrow Estinien had struck mid-air and picked up, as if still disbelieving that he had  
accomplished such a thing.

“We both know that is not how it works. If only skill were enough to land people the prestige they deserve.” Estinien spat out cynically.

“Aye. If only.” Aymeric sighed wearily in agreement. They had been on the road a few days now, and after much instruction from Estinien and Pertricia – the two low-born – Firmalbert and Mailenette – the high-born had finally learned to properly construct fires, hunt food and somewhat set up camp. Aymeric was delighted to see Estinien display a patience rarely seen in the Lancer. It seemed he really did want to remain in the Temple Knights, and even he knew on what thin ice he was treading on now with the Knight-Commander. Or, perhaps Estinien actually wanted to do well with Aymeric, but the Captain could ill-afford to think he was the cause of such good behaviour.

They camped at an overlook just North-West of Falcon’s Nest. It offered superior vantage, and gave them the opportunity to properly plan their approach. 

“If we strike now, we can catch some of them as they slumber.” Estinien suggested eagerly.

“You may be able to survive on next to no sleep, but we mere mortals require our rest.” Firmalbert said to him, good-naturedly. 

“Firmalbert is right. We will be better equipped to handle the beasts fully-rested. We are dealing with superior numbers, after all, and need all the advantages we can get.” Estinien gave him a shrug that told him though he disagreed, he would acquiesce to his decision. “Pertricia, I want you to work with Mailenette on a full round of training exercises. Firmalbert, begin to put up the tents. We shall help shortly. Estinien, come with me.”

Estinien raised an eyebrow and followed him away from the listening ears of the others.

“Pray forgive me, but I need to ask you some… difficult questions.” Aymeric said to him.

“Ask away.” Estinien crossed his arms in front of his muscled chest, eyes wary.

“I know of Ferndale. It is in your file. I also know that you will attack any Dravanian with an unmatched ferocity, and you do not allow fear to rule you in battle. But when you were unconscious… you seemed to be suffering from a nightmare. And when you awoke there was a look in your eye. The experience has left you traumatised, no doubt.” Estinien’s face turned into a scowl as Aymeric spoke, but he continued on, anyway. “I need to know if there is anything I can do to help.”  
The dragoon’s face turned to one of pleasant surprise, as if not quite knowing how to answer such a request.

“Do not fear. I will not let any weakness hold me back from my target. Tis the others that require your assistance more.” Estinien’s gaze flicked out to the rest of their unit. 

“Perhaps in the more mundane areas, true. But I would see your dream realised, Estinien. I genuinely believe you will become the Azure Dragoon. And I wish to do what I can to see you in the position you deserve.”

“And I can see you becoming Knight-Commander. Though perhaps you would need some kind of blunt instrument to intimidate those that would hinder such a course. Even though you are the best-suited, there are many with their eye on such a mantle that would need swatting away in by a certain ally of yours with the clout and reputation to achieve that.”

“A potential Azure Dragoon with the kind of demeanour that sours milk, perhaps? If only I knew such an individual.” Aymeric said with a wry smile. Estinien smirked in answer.

“If only.”

They returned to the camp and assisted with the set-up. Maillenette returned from training, scowling at some imagined offence or other. Pertricia, still helmeted, managed to coerce a fire into life, after several attempts. The others gratefully warmed themselves by it, cooking some fish they had caught earlier to eat. Aymeric realised with some blow to his ego that Estinien had successfully dissuaded him from his original question. He had assumed the dragoon cared not for politics or diplomacy, and yet he possessed a surprising cunning in deflecting a conversation he did not wish to engage in. With a sigh, he realised it was something he would have to revisit later. After all, trauma was something he wanted to help Estinien get through. 

“What is the plan of attack against the Aevis in the morn, Captain?” Pertricia asked. It seemed Estinien was not the only eager one.

“We approach Twinpools from the South and draw them out in small groups. If we attack within the shelter of the hanging cliff face, then we can minimise the risk of attracting the attention of any larger beasts that sometimes prowl the area. We have rehearsed our combat manoeuvres. I am confident the mission will be a success.”

“Is there any backup in the area? In case things do not go as planned?” Mailenette asked.

“There is the Convictory to the South.” Aymeric answered. Mailenette scowled.

“A bunch of lowborn knights dumped in the middle of nowhere so their incompetence doesn’t get in the way does not count as backup.” Mailenette answered. Pertricia stood up to face her. 

“Does ‘lowborn’ automatically equate to ‘incompetent’ in your mind? Because I would watch your tongue. You never know when your life might be in the hands of one of us ‘lowborn.’” Pertricia growled. Her muscular size squared up against Mailenette’s wiry frame. 

“Those born of the houses have access to better training, equipment and education. It is simply fact that we make the better knights as a result of such.”

“Must grate on you that your better training, equipment and education is still no match for me, then.” Estinien said from his perch beside the campfire. A cocky smirk across his face. Maillenette spluttered, her hands reaching for a weapon.

“Enough!” Aymeric called out before the high-born knight could retort. “Halone be my guide, I shall judge you by your deeds and abilities, not from whoever happened to give birth to you.”  
Maillenette muttered something under her breath that Aymeric did not catch. Though it seemed Estinien did, for he stalked across the campsite and grabbed her shoulder. His other hand was balled in a fist. Firmalbert staggered back, not wanting to get involved. It was Pertricia that held back the lancer from crushing his fist into Maillenette’s face. Estinien could have struggled against her grip, but he let himself be drawn away, though his face was still a mask of fury that Mailenette shrank away from. Estinien’s reputation had reached far, it seemed. 

“Knights! Cease this behaviour immediately. Form up and stand to attention.” Aymeric ordered. They did so, relaxing into drilled-in obedience again. “Estinien, would you care to explain why you would raise your hand against a fellow knight?!”  
The lancer was still furious, every muscle tense.

“Because she disrespected my Captain.” He answered. 

“Is that true, Maillenette? What was it that you said?” Aymeric asked.

“Just what all the Temple Knights already know.” Her mouth turned into a sneer. “That Ser Aymeric is the Archbishop’s bastard son.” Estinien snarled and was about to turn on her right then and again, if Pertricia had not already guessed he would do so, and had already laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. Aymeric, to his credit, kept his distaste from being expressed, and spoke in a voice that was laden with the kind of deadly calm that was more intimidating, somehow, than furious shouting.

“Idle gossip ill becomes you, Maillenette. See that you do not repeat such things, you never know what might happen should one of the Heaven’s Ward hear such an accusation.” The threat was there. And Maillenette felt it palpably. She went as still and stiff as the lance upon Estinien’s back. Fear made her shiver for a second before she regained her composure, though her face was still white as the snow beneath their feet.

“Understood Captain.” She said. 

“Very well. You know your sleeping arrangements. We rest until dawn, and then we attack the Aevis.” He instructed. Immediately they set to tidying up the campfire. Aymeric retired to his tent. He was already dozing when the careless clank of armour in his tent woke him up to Estinien’s presence. Even from the lancer’s footsteps and the way he laid down, Aymeric could tell he was still angry. Aymeric half-sat up to address him, their voices spoken in hushed tones so that the others could not hear.

“Tis nothing to concern yourself over. The rumours have plagued me for some time, but I can handle them.” Still, he was honoured that Estinien would react so strongly to defend his honour. 

“I’m not concerned.” Was Estinien’s reply. Aymeric noted that his terse frown, his bunched muscles and clenched fists very much contradicted such a statement. Estinien seemed to notice the other knight’s lack of belief and continued to speak. “I care not from whose loins you sprung. Only that you seem to be the only Knight concerned with fixing the rotten state of Ishgard. Rather than perpetuating baseless traditions that go against what is right and good.” The lancer clamped his jaw shut, then, aware that he had said too much.

With tentative forwardness, Aymeric laid a hand gently on Estinien’s arm.

“I appreciate your candour. I harbour the same sentiments myself, in fact. The disparity between highborn and lowborn feels unjust. I can only hope that we can fix our country together.”

“I’m ill-suited for such a task. Tell me where to place my lance, and I shall, but as for the-“

“The very fact that you seem to be the only one to share my perceptions tells me that you can be my ally in this. Whether for your glib tongue or – how did you put it – ‘intimidating presence’ then I’m sure we can prevail in such a task.” Aymeric laid back down upon the blankets. “Besides, you will become Azure. Of that I am certain.”

Estinien’s eyes gleamed in the candlelight almost feverishly. “As am I.”

They settled down for sleep, fur blankets all around them, and their breath still misting in front of them. Not for the first time, Aymeric was painfully aware of his attraction to the other knight. But also aware of how careful he needed to be of his actions. Not  
only was there the issue that he was Estinien’s commanding officer, but Aymeric was adopted into House Borel and named their heir, he was high-born, and with the traditions and expectations as they were…

There was also the fact that Estinien was likely to bolt at the first sign of a ‘move’ on Aymeric’s part. He was not one for more settled relationships, especially while the hunt for Nidhogg drove him, and his quest to become Azure. It seemed that the Captain would need to bide his time, though he deemed Estinien to be worth the wait.


	3. Battledance

There were a lot of Aevis. They had been breeding unnervingly closely to the Convictory, but they were recovering from dealing with wolves that had descended on the route to the Steel Vigil. So it was up to their small team to deal with the Dravanians. Estinien was practically bouncing with anticipation in a way that made Aymeric worried – he had seen many knights with such an attitude, but in Estinien, it was even more unnerving, for some reason. Perhaps because he didn’t want him to share the same fate of many of those over-eager knights. Death. 

“Draw them out, Maillenette.” Aymeric ordered. She drew her bow, taking time to properly aim. Her arrow sang true and pierced the flank of an Aevis on the edge of the nest. A group shrieked and turned, seeing their group in their defensive stance. With their leathery wings, they flocked towards them, kicking up snow and icy winds as they did so. Aymeric unsheathed his blue-edged sword and positioned himself by Pertricia’s side. Estinien sprang upon the first Aevis, tearing through its wing. He skidded along the snow-laden ground, using his lance to slice through the underbelly of another, causing stark red blood to stain the snow underfoot. The lancer followed it up with a jump, and pierced right through the skull of a third, killing it outright. The damn man had broken formation. But Aymeric could ill afford to be distracted by his prowess. There were others in their squad, after all.

“Firmalbert, to your left!” He yelled. The knight wound around and deflected a talon with his gauntleted arm. But it still pierced the armour, Aymeric could tell in the weak grip the knight had on his claymore. His swing slashed the scaly hide of the aevis, barely injuring it. 

But an arrow pierced its less protected chest. It reared and shrieked while Firmalbert finished it off with a thrust, and twisted. Aymeric himself fended off three that were flying above them while Maillenette brought out her carbine to pick them off. Her reloading was still slow, but together with Pertricia’s ever-present shield, they were dispatched. Another aevis ambushed Aymeric from the side, but Pertricia was there, and took the blow with her shield. Aymeric breathed a prayer to Halone, even as he swung his sword through the air and hacked the creature until it sank to the ground, where he was able to finish it off. 

The Aevis around them had scattered, right in the direction of Estinien, where he had advanced deeper toward the nest. Damned fool. He continued to jump through the air with a dexterity that not even a dancer or acrobat could contend with, despite his armour, but he was sorely outnumbered. 

“Estinien, pull back toward us!” Aymeric shouted. Their unit ran towards him, chasing after the aevis, fleeing towards an easier – and more singular – target. The dragoon at least seemed to listen to him for once, though he was slow, still attacking and slaying the beasts as he did. Maillenette switched back to her bow, wanting to go back to precision so as to not risk hurting Estinien. Pertricia and Aymeric dashed ahead, while Firmalbert stayed to protect Maillenette.  
The lancer was in trouble, though. Skilled as he was, he was still swarmed, but even as they watched, he decided instead to jump and ride one of the aevis by piercing his lance into the scaly back of its hide in order to anchor himself. Shrieking horribly, it tried to shake him off, but he clung on. Two other aevis flew up to try and tear at him, but he wrenched his lance free and jumped away again, a little closer towards Aymeric and Pertrica. Just as he landed, an aevis crashed into him, and he was sent away in a spray of snow. Aymeric dropped his sword and brought up his own bow. He pierced the aevis that had reared up against Estinien in the back of the skull, though it still flopped down on him, lifeless, held up by being impaled upon Estinien’s lance. Perhaps this time, the dragoon did not need Aymeric’s help, after all. 

Pertricia was sprinting towards him, and Aymeric followed, noting more aevis still swarming around him. She placed her shield in front of his prone body, still winded as he was, and trying to wriggle his lance free of the dead Aevis over him. Aymeric decapitated one that had lined up its wiry neck neatly for him to deliver a swing downwards. He heard gunfire behind him, and the ones at the back were picked off my Maillenette and Firmalbert. One caught Estinien in the side while Aymeric was struggling with one above them and Pertricia was at the other side, deflecting the talons of another. The Captain heard him cry out and practically leapt over to thrust his blade into the creature’s heart. 

Maillenette finished the one above them, and Pertricia had hacked the one on the other side so many times that it practically fell to the ground, dying of blood loss before she pierced its throat. With that, the Aevis nest had been contended with, and only their harsh pants filled the air. Estinien stood up, jubilant and grinning, his eyes filled with triumphant joy, and then he promptly collapsed. Aymeric caught him and held him in his arms before he could crash into the blood-soaked snow.  
“Damned fool.” He muttered. “Back to camp.” He ordered to the others. “Our medical supplies are there. Pertricia, see to Firmalbert’s arm on the way back.”

She did so, and the trek back to camp was long. Dravanians were often attracted to the smell of their fallen, and Aymeric certainly did not want to hang around long enough for a large dragon to catch their small unit, unawares. Estinien was unconscious, of course. From what Aymeric could hastily gather, he had a concussion and blood loss from more than one gash. The one that worried him was in his side when they had been overwhelmed. He laid him in their tent and Maillenette procured him their medicinal supplies. He removed the dragoon’s armour. The gash in his side looked worse than it was. It had struck with three talons, but his armour had prevented the wounds from being too deep. Still, combined with the slashes across his left leg and a shallow wound on his arm from a claw, it had caused him to lose a lot of blood. 

Firmalbert hovered, worried about the state of the lancer. 

“He looks a lot worse than he is.” Aymeric assured. “Most of this blood is from our aevis enemies. Damned knight really did hit them hard.” Firmalbert nodded, relieved, and left to clean himself up. Aymeric bound Estinien’s wounds, and at some point, he groggily woke up, immediately reaching for his absent lance. 

“Wh-where?!” He asked. 

“Relax.” Aymeric urged, secretly glad they had relocated his lance with the other weapons rather than with them in the tent. He placed a hand on Estinien’s shoulder, gently laying him back down. “They are defeated, you blacked out. We are back at camp.”  
“Are you sure I blacked out? I feel fine.”

“Adrenaline. Your wounds will begin to pain you soon, I imagine. And I fear you have a concussion from being slammed against the cliff face.” Aymeric informed him, trying to remember his training with the chirurgeons as he properly cleaned the wounds. And then, sure enough, Estinien winced when he sat up, and settled back down again.

“Ah.” He said, now realising what Aymeric had meant. With a groan, he leaned back in his camp bed. “I killed them all though, didn’t I?”

“You killed a good chunk of them. But do not fail to remember that your unit did their part as well. Mainly in saving you when you went in too deep again.” Aymeric reprimanded.

“I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?” Estinien replied with a nonchalance that caused Aymeric to grow frustrated.

“You suppose so?! Estinien, we had to charge a full frontal assault to get you out of there. You would have died had we not got to you in time. Don’t you dare rely on your unit to save you from your own stupidity. Next time, do not rush in blindly on your own – perhaps consider tactics that accommodate for those around you, for once. I can’t afford to lose you.” Aymeric ended his rant in a soft tone, one that gave Estinien pause as he was about to retort back with a barbed reply. 

“Why? Because you want an ally when you become Knight Commander?” Estinien asked, assuming an ulterior motive in his concern. Just because he had no use for Ishgardian politics and chicanery didn’t mean he was oblivious to it.

“It’s more than that. So much more.” Aymeric shrugged off Estinien’s inquisitive look and dampened down the flare of his feelings for the impetuous dragoon. “Rest and recover, we head back to the Convictory when we are ready."

“I’m… sorry. Aymeric. For what it’s worth. I promise I will do better.” The way Estinien looked so genuinely disappointed at himself ached Aymeric’s heart more than he cared to admit, but he managed a curt nod and left to check the others were alright.

…

Estinien was restless as they helped those at the Convictory against yeti and wolves, but he kept his word and worked as a team. Though he revelled in fighting, Dravanians were the enemy he truly wanted to sink his lance into. It showed as they fought, and Aymeric would wonder if anything would truly dissuade Estinien from such single-mindedness. Nevertheless, the Knights there were grateful for their assistance, and even gave them some of their ration stores as thanks, even though they would be getting paid by the Holy See for their services. 

And so they travelled back to Ishgard. As they drew close, Estinien requested to leave early so that he could join Alberic in the Coerthas Highlands. Aymeric didn’t need them for anything further, so they all made their separate ways at the Gates of Judgement anyway. And he headed to where the Knight Commander ruled from within the Congregation. 

“So.” Knight Eicheneax looked at him with a sneer when he entered. “Did he give you trouble? As I said?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, Ser.” Was Aymeric’s reply.

“I see. So he wasn’t insubordinate or try to start fights? Did not act like a lone wolf and ignore orders? Did not break tactics and formation to dive into the thick of things like someone with a death wish?”

Well. He had done all those things. But he was still far more restrained in such things than usual. When Mailenette had made a barb about Aymeric’s lineage, Estinien was trembling with rage, but still did not throw a punch. When the Lancer charged in, he at least listened to orders to return back to them. When Aymeric confronted him about his actions afterward, he listened and vowed to do better rather than argue back against him. It was leaps and bounds of improvement, especially judging by the stories he had heard of Estinien’s behaviour in other units. But Aymeric couldn’t tell Eicheneux that, it still wouldn’t be enough to clear the Lancer’s name. 

“Estinien acted exemplary to the standards of Temple Knights.” Aymeric said. Not adding that the standards of Temple Knights were extraordinarily low, judging by the mobs of bullies he had seen on the streets in their armoured regalia. But the statement seemed to satisfy the Knight Commander for now.

“Hmm. Well, we shall see if the rest of your unit agrees with your assessment. He often breeds… malcontent. I’m sure one of the others will come to me in time with their complaints. And then he will be out of the Temple Knights. For good, this time.”

Aymeric nodded his understanding, and then exited the office after handing in his written debrief of the mission. He pursed his lips as he walked out of the Congregation and into Saint Reinette’s Forum. He needed to get Eicheneux out of there fast. He was trouble, and Aymeric knew he was in league with the malicious tyrants within the Heaven’s Ward and upper echelons of the Temple Knights. He rubbed his temple, wondering just how by the Twelve he would manage such a feat. It was only a matter of time before Maillenette reported Estinien’s contentious actions and got him dismissed, after all.

…

Bells rang out everywhere throughout the city at once. Aymeric scrambled into his armour and in his haste, almost forgot his blue-edged blade he had inherited from his adoptive parents. The sounds signalled a Dravanian attack upon Ishgard. Judging by the sounds and the direction of the smoke, Aymeric judged it to be upon the Foundation. As always, it was the poor citizens of the Brume that suffered the most. The knight headed down the steps as fast as he could. Knights around him were doing the same, their weapons brandished. Some shoved fleeing civilians out of the way with more force than was necessary, causing Aymeric to grimace with distaste. 

His eyes scanned for anyone from his unit, but could find none. So he continued to the smoke and to where a large dragon blackened the sky with a wingspan that rivalled one of the Elder Dragons. It seemed that even in a battle-hardened soldier like Aymeric, that fear could still rear its ugly head. Dragoons were leaping from the battlements to pierce its hide, but the dragon batted them away like annoying flies. Aymeric concentrated on evacuation and destroying the ground forces that threatened their lives. Pertrica joined him first. 

“Ser.” She panted. “The lower levels are burning. We need to put out the fires before they consume the Brume, but the Knights are focussing too much on the battle.” There was fear in her voice too.

“Understood.” Aymeric grabbed a Commander he recognised so that the message could be passed onto more people.

“Ser, we need to put out the fires in the lower levels before it spreads.”

“The Dravanians die first. The lowborn can evacuate themselves.” The Commander retorted back, before turning and ignoring the anger in Aymeric’s face. Ser Charibert. He should have known. 

“We need to get creative, Pertricia. We need all the snow and ice we can muster. That wagon there!” He instructed. Together, they focussed on putting out the fires, just the two of them. They saw Firmalbert who had followed their example and helped them by evacuating the citizens in the Brume who were in immediate danger. 

They put out several fires throughout the district, and it was Maillenette who found them as they evacuated a group of workers. 

“Ser!” She called out, rushing over. “Ser, it’s Estinien, he…”

A red light pierced through the heavens at that moment. Up in the skies, a figure had leapt upon the huge dragon, wielding an orb in their hand. 

“The eye has chosen him!” She told him, breathlessly. Estinien struggled as he used his lance to climb up the struggling dragon’s back, and to its head. Others had paused to watch the sight, gasping in awe at their new Azure Dragoon, watching as he fought the massive Dravanian. His arms were slick and bloody, but the Lancer still managed to propel himself upright, and sink his weapon deep into the screaming creature’s eye socket. A vile, bloody orb fell onto the ground with a curdling crunch. The dragon began to fall, even as Estinien gouged out the other eye, relinquishing it to a similar fate as the first. With his white hair and piercing eyes, others began to whisper about Haldrath himself being born anew. 

“Continue to put out the fires.” Aymeric ordered his unit, finally regaining control of his senses and stifling his awe at such a sight. The lifeless body of the dragon dropped down into the abyss below, and Estinien landed lightly on the ground just by Saint Reinette’s Forum. Nidhogg’s eye blazed in his hand, the power coursing through him.

“Turns out…” Estinien said with a smirk, stalking straight towards Aymeric. “That I outrank you now.”

“Is that so? It seems you never put any stock into rank before now.” Aymeric returned playfully. Estinien grinned, but his elation was short-lived when a few of the Heaven’s Ward appeared. He kept his lance in his hand warily, even though the Dravanian brood had dispersed with the death of their leader.

“So… The eye chooses someone not yet even in the Dragoon order.” One said.

“I believe it has begun to choose out of desperation, rather than anything resembling divinity.” Said another. Estinien scowled and reached for his lance, Aymeric spoke rather than have him act rashly.

“The eye has spoken, and the Azure Dragoons have always protected Ishgard from the Dravanians that threaten our home. We need one now, more than ever. Estinien is skilled, and I fully believe he will be able to do justice to the mantle.” Aymeric told them.

Estinien turned back to give him a grateful smile. Still, Aymeric saw the accusation in their eyes. Unworthy, they thought. Damn them all to the aether.

“Still.” Ser Janneleux stepped forward and extended his arm. “We require the Eye to be returned. You will be Azure Dragoon, but even so, the Eye of Nidhogg remains with the Holy See.” With a scowl, Estinien returned the red orb. But still, with so many witnesses, Aymeric knew the Heaven’s Ward would be unable to hide the fact that Nidhogg’s Eye had named a new Azure, even if they wanted to. The Knights placed the Eye carefully in a box, and headed back to the temple. 

Estinien’s gaze was elsewhere, though. He leapt onto a rooftop above them, and they heard the shriek of a dragon. A burst of fire erupted, but shortly after, the dragon’s corpse rolled off the roof. Then there was the shriek of a small child as Estinien grabbed her without preamble and leapt off the roof with her. The young girl held a hammer in her hand as a weapon, and ineffectually battered it against Estinien’s armour. The dragoon then looked almost comically confused at the crying individual, and with an expression of bewilderment, handed her over to Aymeric, still sniffling and flailing, and walked away. 

“What’s your name, young one?” Aymeric asked with a kind smile. She seemed to calm down and regain her senses somewhat. 

“I-I’m Emilia. I don’t know wh-where my p-parents are.” She said between sobbing. She looked no older than nine years old. Aymeric prayed to Halone that her parents were still alive, somewhere, out there. 

“You are a very brave individual. Thanks to your efforts against that Dravanian, Estinien here was able to finish it off. He is the Azure Dragoon now, you know.”

“A-Azure Dragoon?!” She whispered in awe. Looking up to the figure Aymeric had motioned to. “I thought we didn’t have one. Ma said Halone had forsaken us, and Haldrath’s legacy had gone.”

“Luckily, the eye has chosen, and we can fight back against the Dravanians. Where did you last see your parents, Emilia?”

“At home, there.” She pointed to a burned down cottage, its houses and doors blackened. Indeed, it was the source of one of the fires that Aymeric’s unit had been putting out. Estinien turned away and began looking around the house for some sort of confirmation, while Aymeric soothed and consoled the girl. He watched as Firmalbert caught up with them, and joined Estinien in his search, while Pertrica got her parents’ names from Emilia and called out for them around the Brume. 

Eventually, Estinien and Firmalbert returned. 

“Emilia, did your Mother wear a brass necklace? One with a pendant of Saint Reinette?” Firmalbert asked. The girl nodded excitedly.

“Yes, that’s her! Did you find her?” Firmalbert looked at Aymeric, his mouth a grim line, but his meaning clear. Estinien turned and looked away, walking a little ways to be on his own.

“My Da was there as well. Did you find him too?” She asked. Firmalbert’s voice was more haggard and sombre when he replied.

“Does your Da keep a blacksmith’s hammer on his belt? And wears an earring?”

“Yes! He has brown hair and a thick, fuzzy beard as well. Did you find him too?” She asked again, her eyes wide and eager.

“Emilia, I’m Aymeric, a Captain in the Temple Knights. Could you please come with me to somewhere where you will be safe?” Aymeric asked gently.

“But Ma said that Temple Knights were-“ She stopped herself, looking around at the armoured figures surrounding her, suddenly fearful and backing away from them. She was about to flee, but Estinien had appeared in her path, his arms folded, looking down at her. The dragoon said something to Emilia that he did not quite catch, but she sobbed against her sleeve, and her knees fell upon the ground. 

“You can still keep their memory with you, always. They aren’t gone where it matters.” Estinien was saying, tapping his chest. “You faced a dragon at the age of nine. You’re brave. Now let’s get you to the Holy See.” 

Emilia continued to cry, but stood up and nodded. She walked with them and they left her with the Temple Priests and was placed in a room with other children. It seemed she wasn’t the only newly-made orphan from the attack. 

The other knights from their unit left to recuperate, leaving Aymeric with a stony-faced Estinien. The Captain reached out and squeezed his hand, worried that he would recoil. To his surprise, the dragoon allowed it and squeezed back. No doubt the experience brought back memories for the lone survivor of Ferndale. 

“You saved a child. I hadn’t even seen the commotion up above, if you hadn’t noticed, Emilia-“

“I know. Dragoons are taught to look up. It’s a skill others should use more often when fighting flying creatures.” He spat out bitterly. His mood was sour, and Aymeric suspected he needed some time to reflect and keep to himself. 

“Your new position may mean you won’t be in my unit any longer. However, I would still like for us to celebrate your new station, properly, of course.”

“Forgive me, Aymeric, I do not feel in a celebratory mood. Mayhap later.”

“Very well. But seek me out at the De Borel manor should you need me.”

Estinien nodded, and bound away without a word, leaving Aymeric to wonder what the future held for them both now.


	4. Tentative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning tag has been changed from 'Mature' to 'Explicit.'
> 
> Y'all know what this means... :D

A couple of days later, the dragoon did, indeed, knock at the door of the De Borel manor. Though a large house, only Aymeric really lived there, aside for a couple of serving staff. It irked him that he should live in such comfort while others existed in such squalor, but it would cause a scandal should he begin to house citizens of the Brume. And he knew that such behaviour would stop any chances of him becoming Knight Commander, and changing the entire structure and political landscape of Ishgard in a way that would have a long-lasting effect. So for now, he used his wealth for smaller, more disguisable acts of kindness. 

Aymeric took a moment to recognise Estinien in his full Azure Dragoon regalia, being accustomed to his Temple Knight armour, as he was. But when he heard the deep rumble of his voice, there was no question as to who it was. 

“It is good to see you, my friend. Please, come in.” He ushered. Estinien looked around, a little out of his element, and not knowing what to do. He began pacing. His head bowed and deep in thought.

“It seems they recognised the Eye’s choice, regardless of their own personal opinions.” Aymeric remarked with a pointed glance at his new black and gold-trimmed armour.

“I made sure they had no choice.” Estinien said with a sly smile. 

“Well, it seems one half of our plan is in place. Now I just need to become Knight Commander. Please, sit, Estinien. Your pacing will wear holes in the carpet.” The dragoon did so, selecting a hard backed chair in favour of the plush sofa that Aymeric reclined on.

“So how does being Ishgard’s protector differ from that of the Temple Knights?” Aymeric asked conversationally, sipping at some birch tea. He poured some for his stoic companion, but it sat upon the table, ignored for now.

“They try and involve me in their political games. Believing that a heroic Azure Dragoon on their side will make them much more credible. I am in the position to go tell them to fuck themselves and leave me alone. And they do.” A smile grew upon Estinien’s face. “Suits me just fine.” Aymeric chuckled.

“I thought as much. The Temple Knights dare not say a bad word about you now you have been named Azure. Even Knight Commander Eicheneux went to the dragoon barracks personally to give you a most glowing commendation. He said that he knew your talent exceeded any other he had trained right from the start.”

“Pfft! He didn’t allow me to go to the dragoons all this time, and now the Eye chooses me, he takes that kind of sycophantic tone.”

“You have power now in Ishgard. Whether you wish it or not.”

“True. But I did not come here to discuss my new position.” Estinien looked at his mug, but did not drink it, suddenly very interested in the patterns adorning the ceramic.

“Then why did you come here?” Aymeric asked, apprehension growing within him. Estinien was silent, running a gauntleted finger along the edge of the mug. 

“Now I have a rank…” Estinien began. Aymeric waited patiently. “It wouldn’t be completely infeasible for us to…” He looked away at the wallpaper at the other end of the room. Even dressed head to foot in imposing spiked mail, Aymeric found his behaviour rather endearing – almost adorable. He leaned over the table towards him. 

“I would like to go to Camp Cloudtop. Would you care to accompany me?” He asked.

“What for?”

“Courtship, my dear.” Aymeric informed him with a patient smile.

“Oh. Then yes, I suppose.” Estinien shrugged. He set down his mug and stood up. 

“Now now, Estinien. You could at least show some enthusiasm.” Aymeric chided. 

“I am enthusiastic. It certainly beats drilling some sense into these green recruits they keep sending me. Let’s go.” Aymeric sighed, reminiscing the instances he needed to drill some sense into the flighty dragoon.

“Oh Estinien…”

...

Estinien watched as literally half of Camp Cloudtop greeted his well-liked companion with genuine smiles and light-hearted banter. Aymeric treated each and every one of them with kindness and respect, but was also quick to depart from them, conscious as he was of his company. Thankfully, no one asked any pointed questions. Though Estinien’s helmeted intimidating presence may have had some part to play in that. 

“Where are we going?” The Azure Dragoon asked as they remounted the black chocobos that had brought them thus far on their journey and flew through the air. A small part of him was beginning to regret his decision to voice his intentions to the Commander. The part of him that was frightened of losing something more, or was worried about rejection. 

“Hmm. I hear you like high up places.” Was the only clue that Aymeric gave him. The helmet hid Estinien’s frustrated scowl, but Aymeric glanced at him as if knowing his mood without any indication. “It would not do to begin such a thing in such a foul mood. I promise that your spirits will be lifted soon enough.”

Estinien was certain that Aymeric was playing with him, teasing him, perhaps. Already he was regretting this venture. The urge to flee was overpowering him, almost, despite this being his intention. His eyes flicked to the sharp cliff faces and isolated islands where he could jump away, but he felt a gauntleted hand hold his to his side. The damned Knight knew him far too well.

“Before you joined my unit, I had heard about you from the other Knights. When we alone survived that dreadful Dravanian attack, there was some credence to these tales. The ones that spoke of your skill, your unbridled ire and your wilful arrogance, at least.” Aymeric began with a fond smile, taking both of his hands in his now, and stopping their walk. 

“You have a strange way of wooing me, Ser Knight.” Estinien commented with a tilt of his head, but allowed him to continue.

“Would you rather I whispered sweet nothings in your ear?” Aymeric smirked. Estinien swallowed, resisting the surge of desire that sang through his body. “I’d have thought you would prefer the truth, regardless of its sting.”

“True enough.” Estinien managed to rumble.

“Good, because twas your justified arrogance that first attracted me to you. So often do Temple Knights exude superiority merely due to the situation of their birth, never by merit. So a man with confidence and the hard skill to match certainly made for a pleasant difference. I observed as you drifted from unit to unit, with none appreciating your skills, and judging you merely from your prickly demeanour. A demeanour – which I have noticed – is most certainly warranted.” Aymeric ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. “What I mean to say, is that, despite your best attempts to ward people away, I am very much drawn to you. Prickly demeanour and all.”

Wordy as it was, it was certainly endearing, and the way Aymeric gazed at him with those ice-blue eyes only cemented the dragoon’s heart in place. Unfortunately, Estinien lacked the inclination or skill towards a wordy confession of his own, and instead went toward the other question in his mind.

“Then why bring me here to explain that?” He asked, feeling somewhat beleaguered by his own abruptness, though Aymeric didn’t seem to mind, at least.

“Here? With the isolated flying islands? So far from civilisation? Up in the air where spirits can soar and where I know you feel most at home.”

It was true. Up high was where Estinien felt most at home. It was exhilarating in the Sea of Clouds, and he often came here to train himself away from the eyes of the other Temple Knights. He was unsure of if Aymeric knew this or not, perhaps he had simply inferred such information himself. Feeling more relaxed, Estinien took off his helmet. 

“You look so perfect with your hair unbound.” And the look that Aymeric gave him had Estinien make sure he would wear his hair unbound more often. The Azure Dragoon felt his heart hammer in his chest when he finally inclined his head to kiss Aymeric’s parted lips. The Commander’s hand lightly caressed the side of his face, and Estinien’s gauntleted hands pressed the other closer to him. Their tongues explored, almost shyly. This was not at all like the other flings Estinien had pursued previously, he wanted to have something more lasting with Aymeric, he decided. They finally withdrew, but their faces still close to one another to feel the tickle of the other’s breath on their cheek. 

"I never knew that you returned my sentiments. When did this begin?" Estinien asked.

"When we embarked upon that mission against the Aevis near the Convictory. When you were injured, and I saw you be swarmed by the Dravanians, my heart leapt. It was more than the mere professional concern that a Captain has for a member of their team. Much more." Aymeric responded. 

“I’ll strive not to put myself in too much danger, then.” Estinien promised. Aymeric chuckled, blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I’d not ask something of you that I know would be impossible for you to keep to. I know what drives you to kill Nidhogg. I only beg that you allow me to help you in such an endeavour in any way that I can.”

Not for the first time, words were not forthcoming, so Estinien crashed his mouth against Aymeric’s in response instead. Finding that it provided the depth of emotion he felt was necessary, anyway. The Knight was certainly not complaining, though it seemed that their armour was a frustrating enough impediment that he eventually withdrew, panting and with cheeks flushed.

“We could return to the tavern at Cloudtop?” Estinien suggested, noticing the night skies looming overhead. Crystal-like stars swept like a blanket over them. 

“I’ve packed camping equipment and a tent. If we set up here, I would appreciate the solitude out here, more than a cramped tavern room packed with patrons.” Aymeric offered. Oh how much he knew Estinien. He would take solitude out in the wilderness any day over packs of self-righteous knights and pretentious nobles. 

…

Once they had set up, Estinien decided to immediately strip his armour. The time had passed to back out now, and he may as well dive into where he definitely knew this was heading. 

“I believe this to be the first time I have seen you out of your armour. I was half-convinced you wore it as you slept.” Aymeric wondered, though his eyes trailed over Estinien’s muscular form most appreciatively. Wearing but a vest and loose trousers, it was the most he had ever seen of him. The other Knight followed suit, though his armour was far easier to remove, thankfully.

“You’d be correct. More than once has a beast disturbed me from my slumber, after all.” Estinien commented with nonchalance, but it caused a realisation for Aymeric – that Estinien actually had no home to call his own. His adopted Father, Alberic, stayed in the barracks out in the Coerthas Highlands, which is where Estinien seemed to sleep too. But when in Ishgard, he must have been sleeping out of caves or renting a room in the Forgotten Knight all this time. 

The fire outside the tent kept them somewhat warm, but looking at such impressive musculature had Aymeric craving after another source of warmth. 

“Come closer, please.” He asked. Estinien obliged, going to where Aymeric sat, and prowling over him until Aymeric laid on his back with Estinien’s body over him. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Estinien asked gently, his expression anxious.

“Only for the last few years.” Aymeric reached up and met his lips, this time it was more insistent. Their position sending all kinds of messages through their bodies. Estinien had fisted his hands in their blankets. His hips met Aymeric’s, and the Knight had the pleasure of feeling the undeniable evidence of the dragoon’s attraction. Estinien groaned under his breath, and bent to whisper in Aymeric’s ear.

“I had best warn you.” Aymeric gasped as Estinien rutted into him. “That I’m not especially patient.”

“I had gathered as such.” Aymeric remarked playfully. Estinien drew back to smirk at him, and then removed the final vestiges of his clothing. His torso was scattered with a litany of battle scars, some looking quite recent. Others seeming like the encounter was a close shave with death. But still, he was radiant, and all proof of the warrior he was. Aymeric removed his own clothes and closed the gap between them again. His mouth claimed Estinien’s neck, and after hearing the breathy moans it elicited, he trailed down the expanse of his torso, kissing the scars, and then lower still until Estinien’s hands were locked into the thick, dark curls of his hair, and his mouth flicked the end of his tip. 

The moan Estinien made was worth it enough. Aymeric slid his tongue further down his shaft, coaxing the base with his hand. Then enveloped his entire cock with his mouth, sinking it further down, his tongue licked and making the length glistening and wet. 

Estinien jerked and thrust into Aymeric’s throat with a gasp, before stilling himself with a great amount of self-control. Aymeric resisted the reflex to gag, and placed his hands Estinien’s hips to still them. Instead, the dragoon was forced to placate himself by digging nails into their makeshift mattress and kneading the other hand through Aymeric’s hair. He continued, pumping even as his tongue licked and his mouth encircled him so completely. 

“By the Twelve, Aymeric.” He growled. “If you don’t stop, then I’ll come in your mouth.” Aymeric withdrew just long enough to murmur.

“I’d best continue then.” Against his throbbing cock. Another few sweeps of his shaft and Estinien was undone, moaning and panting and pouring wave after wave down Aymeric’s throat. A fact which the Knight knelt between his legs seemed most content with as he wiped the last of the come from his mouth. 

“I had hoped to pleasure you in return, before you sent me over the edge.” Estinien growled in his gravelly voice. Aymeric tilted his head and a smirk lightened his features.

“If you believe me to be done, then you are most sorely mistaken.” Aymeric teased. Without warning, Estinien pounced and pinned him under him, claiming his mouth, his neck and his jaw with the kind of ferocity that Aymeric had so frequently seen him display in battle. He felt the dragoon’s hand pumping his cock, even as he ground his own hardening dick into his thigh. Aymeric admitted he could barely keep up, and was hardly even cognizant as waves of pleasure and arousal threatened to overwhelm him, such was the intensity of Estinien’s ministrations. 

“I want to be inside you.” Despite the dragoon’s words, the intonation was that of a question, a beg, a plea. 

“There’s oil in the bag over there.” Aymeric panted, gesturing to his pack. Estinien hastily dove into the supplies to bring out the oil, and wasted no time in lathering it over his fingers. Aymeric whimpered when Estinien slowly twisted in his first finger, bringing it right to his core in a way that sent his cock twitching and throbbing. A second joined it, and began stretching him, but a glance at Estinien’s waiting cock told Aymeric that, even despite his previous experience of such things, that it could be an ordeal bordering on painful. A third finger caused Aymeric to throw his head back into the blankets and gasp even as Estinien continued to pump Aymeric’s cock, slowly up and down, in motion with his fingers deep inside him. 

Aymeric dared to look at Estinien’s face, and saw dark eyes hooded with lust and desire staring back at him. And though he looked fit to burst with arousal, he still stroked a thumb down the side of Aymeric’s face, and asked, ever so gently.

“Are you ready?”

“I am.”

He was slow. So carefully slow. Even as his nails and hands dug into the ground and he whimpered as he resisted the urge to rut with wanton force into Aymeric. Swollen as he was, he needed to adjust and pause every so often to give Aymeric the time he needed to properly accommodate him. With that same gentleness and concern, he would make sure the Knight was alright each and every time before continuing. It was some minutes before his cock was fully sheathed, and he began to move in languid strokes that sent Aymeric into waves of pleasure. In fact, twas Aymeric who quickened the pace by placing his hands upon Estinien’s hips and increased the force of his thrusts. 

With a triumphant smile, Estinien took the hint and returned the sentiment with a great deal of enthusiasm. His hands touched his body all over, and the kisses hastily pressed against his body caused the pain to lessen and the pleasure to increase. One hand returned to pumping Aymeric’s cock, desperate to return the release that he had provided the Dragoon earlier. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Aymeric felt the words more than he heard them, such was the strength of the dragoon’s conviction as his passion reached roaring heights. The force of his orgasm as his come sprayed across his chest and over Estinien’s hand sent him into breathy moans, and he grasped his hands into the Azure Dragoon’s thighs as he thrust deeper and violently into Aymeric with an almost feral growl. The force of his second orgasm struck Aymeric’s core, and Estinien merely stayed there for a few moments, panting and glistening with sweat. White hair matted to his forehead, and his eyes regarding Aymeric with something akin to awe. 

Twas Aymeric who snapped out of the post-coital reverie first. “There are some cloths there that we can use to clean up.” Estinien reached over and grabbed them, tending to Aymeric first with a tenderness that made him wonder if this man was different to the Estinien he knew altogether. Once they were clean of the stains of one another’s lust, Estinien lay down beside Aymeric, an arm cautiously rested upon his side. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, almost sounding nervous. 

“’Alright’ seems an insufficient term.” Aymeric turned around so that he looked Estinien in the eyes. “In fact, I daresay I have never been more content than I am right now.” Estinien smiled and stroked a hand up and down Aymeric’s spine in response. It was a smile – such a genuine one – that Aymeric wanted so much to see more of, such a rare and beautiful thing it was. 

“I noticed you were holding back a great deal, however. I admit I am somewhat curious to experience what you are like when you are truly unhinged.” Aymeric said. Estinien chuckled. 

“Mayhap in the future, you shall.” His eyes delivered a promise there and then. One that he intended to keep, for this was a relationship he well and truly wanted to see flourish.


	5. Next Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We aint done with the smut.

They returned to Ishgard. There was still two more days until Aymeric’s next excursion with his unit, and he intended to make the most of his newly formed relationship with Estinien until then. Upon them crossing the Steps of Faith, it was Estinien whom many of the Knights greeted, asking him for tips and advice against the violent brood of Nidhogg and the hostile dragons that plagued them. Aymeric smiled patiently while the Azure Dragoon told them of which weaknesses to take advantage of, and how to best survive when the odds were against you, all while upholding his normally gruff demeanour, that had once scared so many away. 

“What are you grinning at?” Estinien asked as they stepped across the Foundation and ascended the many stairs that spiralled up to the Pillars. 

“Forgive me, seeing people voluntarily approach you is still a novel concept for me.” Aymeric smirked.

“To teach our soldiers how to best defeat our enemy is to aid in the defence of Ishgard, of course I will undertake such a duty.”

“I envy you. It seems my duty is often more as a relationship counsellor than offering any kind of tactical guidance.”

“A relationship counsellor? Are you so well qualified for such a thing?” Estinien asked with a raised eyebrow. Aymeric understood the real question there – the one asking about his previous love life. 

“Truthfully? No. One or two previous relationships that did not last hardly qualifies me. Sadly, it seems to not be enough dissuasion. Though I do not doubt you could more than fend yourself against any unwanted suitors clamouring for the De Borel affiliation a marriage would bring.”

“I will be keeping an eye out, indeed.” Aymeric didn’t imagine Estinien’s fist tightening on his lance, as he spoke those words.

…

“What is that?!” Estinien growled, drawing his weapon.

“Pray, sheathe your lance, Estinien. Tis only my cat, Ser Pouncealot.” Aymeric placed a hand on his arm until he hesitantly placed his spear upon his back again. The creature in question looked up at the dragoon with large unblinking eyes. It then began rubbing itself against Estinien’s greaves. The Azure Dragoon was momentarily too shocked to react, and then fell back against the door to the De Borel mansion. But Ser Pouncealot advanced, cornering him, leaving him with no avenue to escape.

“For whatever reason, he seems to have taken a liking to you. I can’t imagine why with you being so unfriendly.” Aymeric crouched down and began to scratch the cat in question behind the ears. “Lemme get you some food and get you away from the big, scary man. Yes?”

“I’m going to your quarters. If only to seek refuge from this beast until you deign to join me.” Estinien folded his arms. Aymeric chuckled. 

“Very well, I shall be with you shortly. Light the fire, and I will procure us some drinks, have you a preference?”

“Ale.”

“Not wine? I have vintages ranging from-“

“Mead, perhaps, if you have no ale.” And Estinien departed down the corridor. Aymeric fed Ser Pouncealot, fussing over him more than was strictly necessary, and then brought the drinks of choice to his chambers. Estinien was already reclining on the sofa before the fire, a book laid open in his hands.

“Good to see you making yourself comfortable. What is it you are reading? I did not know you were a fan of literature.” Aymeric asked. Estinien flicked to the front cover.

“’Haldrath’s Legacy: A Biography of Ishgard’s First Azure Dragoon.’”

“Haha! Of course. I imagine you as enraptured by tales of him since you were a child as I was, then?” Aymeric asked, settled down on the sofa beside him.

“Certainly. Even before Nidhogg had laid waste to Ferndale, twas my dream to become a dragoon.” Estinien boldly began taking off his Azure Dragoon regalia, letting the gauntlets drop with a loud clang on the wooden floorboards. Neither of them were under any delusion about where this was going, here in Aymeric’s private quarters.

“You know, twas said that Haldrath possessed snow-white hair and sharp-grey eyes.” Aymeric tucked some of the dragoon’s hair behind his ear and leaned closer to him, a thumb caressing his cheek. “It does make me wonder.”

“Lest you forget, I am lowborn. I highly doubt Haldrath is some millennia-old ancestor of mine.” Estinien leaned up too remove his chestplate. Then, somehow, he kicked off his graves, undoing the clasps with only his feet. Already he had gotten relieving himself of his armour down to an art form.

“Aye, but he relinquished his title and position upon claiming Nidhogg’s eye.” Aymeric pointed out. 

“My lineage lies in a long line of shepherds, not dragoons. I am simply good with a lance, tis all.” Estinien softly touched Aymeric’s chin and guided his lips to his, where they met and kissed. It was still new to them, and much of these interactions involved exploration of another, and in revelling in the long-awaited feel of one another’s bodies.

Their positions changed slowly until Aymeric was practically laid upon Estinien, his tongue delving deeper and their kisses becoming more heated, more urgent. Each other’s lengths hardened against one another and their hands roamed to increasingly more intimate places…

“Wait.” Estinien said and withdrew suddenly. Aymeric broke apart, eyeing him curiously. “What are your intentions for us?” Aymeric cast a sly eye towards his bed across the room. 

“I thought it was rather obvious.” He said with a smirk and those smouldering eyes. Estinien chuckled.

“Aye, but in the long term. What are you after from me?”

“Someone to care about, to cherish and to be with.” Aymeric stroked a thumb across the hard angles on the side of Estinien’s face. The other man waited, silent for him to clarify, dark eyes expectant. “Very well, to be blunt. I wish for us to engage in a relationship. I wish for something serious, not merely a fling.”

“’Flings’ are all I have known. I may need some time to grow accustomed to this.”

“I shall be patient.”

It wasn’t a rejection, Aymeric thought contentedly. He placed his lips against Estinien’s again. Then he took his hands in his and guided him towards the large bed, canopied and draped with layers of plump covers to better protect from the freezing temperatures Ishgard endured. 

They swiftly undressed, better warmed by the nearby hearth, and Estinien eagerly began pumping Aymeric in his hand. The latter silently mused if he would ever grow any sense of patience for this kind of thing. But, with a slight smile on his lips, he stroked him in turn. Slower, more languidly, coaxing deep moans from Estinien, whose hand had faltered with the sudden attention.

“Will you allow me, this time?” Aymeric whispered against his ear, as his hand reached round to his muscled ass suggestively. Estinien seemed to clench in anticipation, but relaxed when Aymeric peppered light kisses along his neck.

“Fine.” He said. But something in his tone caused Aymeric to hesitate. 

“Are you sure?”

“Get the oil, before I change my mind.” Estinien growled. Aymeric needed no further urging. He was gentle as he slid fingers into the Azure Dragoon’s opening, watching white hair stick to his face where it had escaped from where it was bound. His pants were shallow, and his body was tense, but the moans of pleasure he made were genuine. Aymeric kissed him to soothe him, down his neck, across his collarbone and up his cheek, whispering his name, so that when he entered his tip into his entrance, a gasp sounded against his ear. 

“Ready?” Aymeric murmured. Estinien settled on nodding mutely. Then snarled as Aymeric pushed further. The knight paused again, withdrawing to look Estinien in the eyes.

“We can go back to what you are more familiar with, if you prefer?” He said; concern in his eyes. It was that concern that caused Estinien to shake his head. 

“No.” And emphasised his response by forcefully pushing Aymeric deeper inside him. Aymeric panted at the sensation of being fully embedded within him, and then began moving in a careful pace. 

Yet again, Estinien’s impatience won through, and he increased the force of his rutting until Aymeric was forced to go deeper and increase his speed. Still, he kissed Estinien tenderly, and the dragoon had hands tangled in his hair, nails scraping down his back, on his hips, urging him on, and then down, feeling himself until Aymeric felt Estinien pumping his cock against his torso, feeling his precum against his stomach and moaning at the sensation. 

It was sudden, the climax that overtook Aymeric, and all it took was the sound of Estinien’s deep moaning and his face in ecstasy and the feel of cum spilling from his cock and coating them both. With a growl, Aymeric rode out his own orgasm as Estinien gritted his teeth and growled, gripping his hip hard with his other hand. He withdrew from Estinien, dripping onto the dragoon’s heavily muscled legs. 

There was a final, contented moan from Estinien before he reached for the nightstand and grabbed a towel to clean themselves up before the mess stained the luxurious sheets. A couple of comfortable, silent minutes passed until Aymeric leaned up on his elbow to regard his lover. 

“Thank you, for allowing me to be your first in that manner.” He said. Estinien shrugged in response as if it was nothing. But Aymeric had deduced how uncomfortable he had been initially in the reversal of roles. It spoke volumes that Estinien had allowed this at all. Still, Aymeric knew better than to press the matter. At least not with the dragoon’s own prompting first. Aymeric knew he was still toeing the line between fight or flight with Estinien, and needed to be patient himself before the dragoon could fully give himself over. 

“Next time, just get on with it.” Came the eventual grumpy response. Still, Aymeric grinned in triumph.

Next time.

Next time…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting on this site is awkward :/ Apologies.


	6. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the flighty dragoon gets... flighty.

Every nerve was frayed, and the very blood that itched in his veins urged for him to be away from this damned city. He yearned to test himself against his fiercest opponents, to get away from the conniving and selfishness of man that made him so sick. It had been some months now since he had begun working against Knight Commander Eicheneux behind the scenes. 

Working mostly with House Fortemps - whom were the only ones after a more progressive Ishgard, mirroring Aymeric's vision for the nation - he had uncovered shady dealings and illegal activities that could easily oust the Knight Commander. But unearthing those secrets and unveiling them all without the finger of suspicion was a very different thing. But to put Aymeric in his place, the other Knight could not be involved. 

Thus it fell to Estinien. And by the Twelve did he despise the politics and backstabbing that had become so much of a staple in Ishgard. But his machinations could work happily without his presence now, so he wandered out the city walls and resolved to have some time to himself before he returned to the rotten city. Enough time for his blood to cool and the dragon within to cease its stirring at every selfish, pompous bastard he came into contact with.

...

Lord Durendaire had invited Aymeric to his manor for a discussion. Such things did not bode well. The man was a shrewd negotiator and a fierce politician. This invitation means he wanted something, and Aymeric was damned if he knew what. He was the heir of a minor house, true, but still, he hardly warranted the personal attention of the patriarch of the most powerful noble house in Ishgard. 

And besides, there were other things on his mind. Estinien had been away for over a month with nary a word about his whereabouts. The only clue he had received, was when he confronted Alberic, who had told him Estinien intended to ‘thin Nidhogg’s brood’ and ‘discover any weaknesses the wyrm might have.’ No letter, no warning, just his cold, harsh absence night after night. It made his heart ache and his temper short.

Still, Aymeric performed his duty and attended Lord Durendaire at his mansion. Unexpected, was that dinner was set out for just the two of them. The rest of the Lord’s family was not present, and after pleasantries and drinks, Lord Durendaire got round to the reason for his summons. 

“Our house prides itself on its proud line of dragoons. Durendaire’s dragoon orders boast the most skilled lance users in Ishgard, and, as the main attacking force against our mortal enemies, every resource at our disposal is put into making them even better, still.”

“Previously, the Azure Dragoon’s duties have included training such individuals and making our forces an even more formidable weapon, that we may weather any attack our enemies set upon us. But since Ser Estinien’s rise to the post, he has been not only reluctant in such duties, but most noticeably… absent.”

“At present, the Azure Dragoon is on urgent business that demands his attention.” Aymeric told the Lord. “Upon his return, I will ensure he is made aware of the expectations required of his new station.”

“Ensure that the urgency of such expectations is afforded the proper emphasis. He shuns Ishgardian politics – which I can understand – but he still needs to play his part. And though he will not listen to us, rumour believes he will listen to you. So I implore you – make him listen.”

“You misunderstand – I may have been his Captain once, but he outranks me by yalms now.” Aymeric said, though he still knew what Durendaire had meant by the insinuation.

“That does not negate what I said, Ser Aymeric. I have also requested this of Ser Alberic, but our Azure Dragoon’s foster father’s pleas have fallen upon deaf ears. I pray you will succeed where Ser Alberic did not. As someone who is… close to him.” The knowing glint in Lord Durendaire’s eyes told him just how much he knew. For all that Aymeric was conscious of the difficulties their public relationship might cause; Estinien was not exactly one for being subtle.

“I shall, Lord Durendaire. Ishgard’s safety is of paramount concern.”

“I am relieved that you see things in the same way as I.”

…

With the real conversation concluded, dinner had lost its relevance after that. And Aymeric had politely made his departure, returning back to his own manor. Truthfully, Aymeric had no way of knowing if Estinien was even still alive out in enemy territory. He would not put it past the man to become too enthusiastic in his pursuits and launch an attack against one of the elder wyrms alone. It was a thought Aymeric did not want to pursue too deeply, however. He retired to his chambers, sighing and writing squad reports when he heard a sound upon the roof. It could have been mistaken for a large bird landing upon the roof, but for the faint metallic sound that accompanied it. 

Aymeric opened the bay window, regarding the night air with stiffness and repressing the anger he felt surge over him.

“You have some explaining to do.” He stated, looking over the dim lights of the pillars. Light footsteps landed beside him as Estinien jumped down from the roof above. “Most use the front door.” Aymeric said with a coldness mirroring the night air.

“I was… Contemplating some things.” Aymeric noticed Estinien was still dressed in full armour. Scratches, dents and blood marked the vestiges of battles not yet washed away. He withdrew back into the chambers, Estinien followed and Aymeric closed the windows and drew the thick curtains across. His lover stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, where normally he would have quickly begun lounging on the sofa, or the bed. 

“Over a month without word, without warning, without a single suggestion as to your whereabouts. Why was that?” Aymeric asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.

“It was naught to concern yourself over.”

“Then perhaps you should have deigned to tell me as such. Twould not be the first time you run headlong into danger, or charged straight into the lair of the enemy with nary a concern as to your own safety.”

“That’s not the case. Not anymore, at least. I was careful.”

“And how am I to know that? Am I to believe you have changed so much?”

“I have something to live for now.”

That caused Aymeric pause. “Then why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Or what you were doing? So used are you to acting alone that you forget to consider those closest to you.” Estinien turned to face him; Aymeric’s voice had softened, at least. But he still did not know how to best fix the situation. The rift between them. 

“I slew some of Nidhogg’s brood. But most of my time was spent on reflection, in truth.” Estinien told him.

“Speak to me, Estinien. Tell me what ails you.” Aymeric pleaded, knowing how tight-lipped the infuriating elezen was. Estinien finally removed his helm, and obliged. 

“For a long time, I held a deep bitterness towards Alberic for what happened at Ferndale. He was supposed to be a vaunted hero – the Azure Dragoon to deliver my parents and my younger brother from the clutches of Nidhogg. I resented him for his failure to save my family.”

“But then, when Ishgard itself was being besieged, in the chaos and the destruction, with so many dragons swarming us at all fronts, I failed to save the parents of a young girl. So fixated was I on the monstrous dragon heralding the attack, that I never even noticed those burning within their homes.”

“I cannot blame Alberic for failing to save my family. Tis unfeasible to save everyone. There are those that lose loved ones, friends, family throughout Ishgard. My grief is naught special, and yet I have fixated upon it as if it is the only loss that mattered.” Estinien sighed and looked out towards the window. 

“Or at least, that is what I have gleaned from my time spent alone.”

“And have you spoken to Alberic of this?” Aymeric finally broke the silence.

“Nay. I am not a man of words, but I can prove to him with my actions and my new office, that yes, I understand that no one person can be fallible. Even him. Even me.”

“Some words shall not go amiss from time to time. Not all of us can pry your innermost thoughts from your mind, after all, try as we might.” Aymeric joined him by the window. Estinien smiled, despite himself.

“I am sorry, for what it is worth. I had not intended to be away so long. Not that that is any excuse.”

“You could have sent word at least, via the Moogle post-carriers.”

“Moogles…” Estinien repeated with apparent distaste. “If I must.” He conceded. 

“All I ask is that you tell me of your sojourns so I do not need to worry you have decided to confront your personal enemy alone, and that your body lies battered and broken in the depths of Dravania, where it may never be found. Also, if something plagues your mind, then tell me, speak to me. You need not suffer in silence.”

“My burdens are not yours to bear. I am able to endure my own problems.”

“That’s where you are wrong. You are helping me break through the traditions holding Ishgard back, you have the same aims as me – the same values. And I know you are working to get the Knight Commander locked up – don’t think I haven’t noticed. You are helping me, so let me help you.”

Estinien was silent for a moment before he responded. “It may… take some time.”

“That is an improvement I can live with. Now, pray join me for some tea. We have much to catch up on.” 

“Have you any ale?”

“Estinien…” Aymeric tsked. “I will need to stock up my larder to accommodate for your tastes before long.” Aymeric chuckled. The rift between them mended for now, they relaxed and spoke deep into the night. And when weariness claimed them, they lay in bed with arms encircling the other. 

…

“Yer a lowborn. You can’t fight with a sword! A sword’s for shining knights from powerful families!” One of the children taunted. Emilia looked down at the wooden sword in her hand with remorse. Anger swelled up again. Anger at her rotting in this pitiful orphanage, with its bullies and patronising clergy. With the Holy See’s indoctrination forced down her throat. She remembered what her parents had told her – what they had felt. They feared the Temple Knights. They told her they were bullies, just like these children. But that these bullies had been empowered beyond what the Brume could ever offer.

“I’ll fight with whatever I want. With my teeth and nails if I have to!” She yelled back. A couple of the clergy supervising them came forward. 

“Now now, Emilia, would not do well to insult a retainer’s son of House Haillenarte.” She bent down to gently scold her. 

“And besides.” The other said. “You could turn your interests to pursuits more becoming of a young girl, like yourself.” Emilia scowled, refusing to relinquish the wooden toy sword she held in her hand.

“Strange, one of the greatest of dragoons was once a young girl.” A new, deep voice sounded from behind her. Emilia turned, recognising that spiked armour. Remembering the flames and death that surrounded her that day, and how strangely comforting that hard, cold armour felt. “Saint Reinette, if you recall her name?” The voice was now taunting, and Emilia grinned when she saw the chagrined faces of the Holy See clergy. 

“Azure Dragoon, you honour us with your presence.” One muttered under her breath.

“Twas not my intention. Or do you not know when you are being reprimanded?” He folded his arms, not needing his face to be visible to see the disapproval radiating from him. The clergy stood there. Numb and mouths agape, the situation not quite sinking in. “Are your heads so filled with naught but the verses of Halone that you cannot respond? Piss off.” He dismissively waved a hand and they both scrambled to retreat. The yard had long since been vacated of the other children, as soon as Emilia had started being scolded.

“You dumped me here!” She said accusingly at Estinien. The gravity of his rank having no effect on her whatsoever.

“Aye, and it seems I erred in doing such a thing. Tis clear this is no place for you.”

“Then why leave me in this shithole?” Emilia demanded. 

“There is no other alternative. Maybe this place is a shithole, but you can still survive here.”

“What about with you?”

“Ha. Nay, my lifestyle is the least suitable for such things. I shall keep an eye on things here, and ensure they become… more encouraging. If the Azure Dragoon endorses you to practice martial pursuits, then they cannot go against that.” He smirked beneath his visor. “Keep practicing little one. Ishgard needs more heroes like you.” He left, leaving Emilia grinning in his wake. 

He didn’t even tell her off for swearing.


	7. Reluctant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Some homophobia. The Heaven's Ward are dicks, afterall.
> 
> Also, many liberties taken with Ishgardian politics.

Estinien watched as the former Knight Commander was brought before the Tribunal with grim satisfaction. It seemed he had been extorting many of the low-born Knights – promising promotions if they pay him a steep fee. Except his greed meant he had started targeting high-born and low-born. After funnelling money out of one of the Dzemael heirs – which came to no promotions, of course – the Tribunal saw fit to strip him of his command and let him rot in the dungeons and pay back reparations. All Estinien needed to do was plant a suggestion here, and hint at a threat there. The backstabbing nobles did the rest themselves, eager at any chance to rip each other apart.

He had his own seat at these meetings, though usually his seat was empty, this was something he wanted to see. A plan he had wanted to set in motion for some time now. Still, despite his anticipation, his lance lay lazily in his hand and his armoured legs were raised on the stone wall in front of him. Eicheneux, red in the face, was taken away, but not before he glared at the Lord of House Dzemael. 

“We now have the issue of the successor to discuss.” Lord Handeloup said to the room. Though he held the highest rank in the Knights, he had already stated it was not his wish to become Knight Commander, despite his impressive service record. A shame, considering he was one of the few higher ups not driven by greed and corruption. “Succession will be decided through nominations of the assembled nobles present, and the debate shall be opened now.”

Immediately the hall erupted in a cacophony of noise, each voice clamouring to be heard with their nomination, each with their own agenda. Estinien did not even try to bother listening to their input. Many nominations were members of the Heaven’s Ward. Pointless, considering their obligations meant they could not serve as Knight Commander anyway. It was mere sycophantic posturing while not risking their own necks. Others were simply high ups in the other Noble Houses. 

“Enough!” Declared an authoritative voice. Edmont of House Fortemps. He was respected enough that silence followed his command. “We will get nowhere with such rabble. Let us go around the Tribunal, one at a time, so that each can voice their nomination. Azure Dragoon, we are blessed with your presence this day; you do not normally grace these halls, so surely you have come here for a reason? Would you like to go first?” Everyone turned to him, curious about his words. Twas true, that he was famous for his dislike of politics, so those assembled were indeed, inquisitive about why the elusive Azure Dragoon was here. 

Estinien smiled beneath his helmet. House Fortemps was the only Noble House he had good relations with, and he had arranged this exact opportunity with Edmont, as they both favoured the same candidate.  
“The new Knight-Commander shall be the one to help organise our troops in the war against the Dravanians, so aye, I’m here for a reason. Ishgard has need of someone with integrity, unwavering loyalty and an ability to think outside of the constraints of tradition in order to break us from our stalemate with our centuries old enemy. My nomination goes to Ser Aymeric. I believe him to be the candidate that most emulates these qualities.” Estinien watched as thoughtful murmurs sounded across the hall. “Besides, he was once my officer and he even managed to keep me in line when no one else could.” He added with a wry smile. A couple of chuckles sounded, even one of Estinien’s former captains in question gave a raucous belly laugh as a response. 

“Only because he warms your bed.” The hall hushed and looked instantly to the guilty voice. Ser Charibert. A sneer on his face.

“Aye, what of it?” Estinien retorted boldly, shamelessly hiding nothing.

“Last I checked, two men can hardly provide heirs to the De Borel family line. It is irresponsible to court a man. Especially as Aymeric was the only adoptee of the late Lord and Madam De Borel. Perhaps such vile behaviour is acceptable in the Brume, but not if one wishes to hold the esteemed rank of Knight Commander.”

“Surely tis ideal to be without the distractions and obligations a family would bring? I do not nominate Ser Aymeric because he ‘warms my bed.’ I nominate him because he is a skilled warrior, an accomplished statesman, honest, loyal and without the corruption present in most of you assembled.” He cast eyes full of contempt around the room. “We will never defeat the Dravanians when we are too busy fighting ourselves and competing with one another to hoard the most wealth – the most prestige. We need to focus on the enemy, and who here is really thinking about our survival as a nation? And not just the state of their coffers?” Estinien challenged, his tone was bored, but he very much had a vested interest in these proceedings. 

“House Durendaire have stood against the tide of Dravanians for centuries – we know what it is like to endure the brunt of their attacks. We, too, fight for survival.”

“As do we, Dzemael seek to reclaim our glory by establishing a more solid presence at Falconhead.”

“Hah! Is that what all those balls and courtly dances are for?” Someone scoffed. 

“I too, nominate Ser Aymeric. The Elder Wyrm Nidhogg stirs, and his brood become increasingly bold. I anticipate our war will come to a head soon, and we need someone who will handle the war with thoughtful intelligence and pragmatism.” Count Edmont spoke, his words inspiring more murmurings in the hall. 

“House De Borel is hardly a threat if he Ser Aymeric is the sole heir, and courting a man. And it seems others will represent only their own family. House Haillenarte stands with Ser Aymeric.”

Wrong reasons, but a nomination was a nomination.

“This is preposterous. My eldest has served loyally for years with several commendations. House Dzemael supports Yvaine Dzemael as Knight Commander.”

“I can see Ser Aymeric being an excellent Knight Commander. He serves with integrity and with great bravery. He cares for each soldier under his command on an individual basis that is so rare in nobility. My vote goes with him.” Handeloup announced. 

Ser Zephirin stepped forward. “The Heaven’s Ward oppose Aymeric’s nomination on the grounds that he acts against the Holy See’s guidance and performs acts of abomination. Acts which, have been confirmed by our very own Azure Dragoon in a hall of many witnesses.” The corners of his mouth upturned into a sneer. Involuntarily, the grip on his lance tightened, itching to test his strength against the other Knight.

Haurchefant rose from his Father’s side. “Strange, this is the first I’ve heard of such things impeding an individual’s ability to command. Courting another man is not grounds to oppose a nomination. I mean, I was given command of Camp Dragonhead. And I am sure my exploits are well documented, and never has the Holy See seen fit to issue grounds of dismissal based on such activities. I believe that other reasons are the cause for your objection to Ser Aymeric, Ser Zephirin.”  
Twas true that Lord Haurchefant openly kept company with all genders. And never had it impeded his promotion. The man was one of the few people Estinien could call a friend, though it was still a tentative thing, and it was in fact Aymeric that introduced the two of them, years ago.

Father Saturnosis rose. “It may be taboo, but there is nothing in the books of Halone that would state that such deviations of character are grounds for a nomination to be opposed. The Holy See refuses to acknowledge these grounds for opposing Ser Aymeric’s nominations.”

And without Estinien even saying a word, the matter was resolved. Good, he hadn’t done his research that diligently, and didn’t know if Ser Zephirin’s threats had substance, or if it was simply hot air. Still, the blonde deflated and sank to his chair, narrowing his eyes at Estinien with a violent promise. The Azure Dragoon tilted the visor of his helm just enough that Ser Zephirin could see his daring grin. The Heaven’s Ward Knight looked away, speaking in hushed tones with one of his comrades instead.  
The Holy See voted for House Dzemael, citing that they disagreed with Aymeric’s lifestyle, saying it brought him closer to the temptations of heresy. Surprisingly, the Archbishop withdrew his nomination, saying that none of the candidates seemed to ‘stand out in conviction or dedication’ to the values of the church. With the rumours surrounding his supposed parentage of Aymeric, Estinien understood why he did not vote. 

It left House Durendaire, in whose hands could be given a possible tie. Typical of their great political wrangling and savviness, the Lord had waited for the others to show their hand first. There were no available candidates in their House of age at the moment, with the tragic death of his eldest daughter, but it was well known that they were staunch allies with House Dzemael. Estinien would need an edge, and by the thoughtful expression on Lord Durendaire’s face, he had deduced as such as well.

“Azure Dragoon, prove something to me. Our house prides itself on our order of dragoons and martial prowess. I have heard many tales of your deeds, so I posit to you a challenge that I believe will be more to your liking than the usual political wrangling we noble houses are often so fond of.” Lord Durendaire said. Estinien cocked his head in interest. “By my right side is Julietta. She is our most accomplished dragoon, and leads our order. I believe the two of you already know one another, though. Defeat her, and I shall place my vote with Aymeric. Upon the condition that you give yourself over to the training of our Dragoon orders.”

The hall gasped when the Azure Dragoon wordlessly leapt off the dais, and landed lightly in the central arena, grinning with anticipation. He raised his lance to beckon to Julietta, dressed in a similar garb to him. She too, leapt into the air, and landed on the opposite end of the arena. Her form was likewise perfection as she performed the dive. The crowd leaned forward. Nobles loved the apprehensive smell of blood, whether it be from social conquests or physical. 

Estinien and Julietta had sparred before, in fact, and her talent was apparent. Both were in possession of a soul stone that augmented their powers, but Estinien always held the edge – just as he did against any warrior he had tested his mettle against. He admitted to jealously guarding his skill. Perhaps one of the reasons he did not teach other dragoons so much was because he very much liked being the best. He was determined that it would be him, and no other warrior, that would be the one to finally slay the Elder Dragon, Nidhogg.

He noticed the Astrologians assembling on standby on the edge of the ring. Estinien smiled, it was nice to not have to hold back. He felt adrenaline coursing through his blood, the power of dragons flowing through him. Should the Heaven’s Ward or Holy See ever discern the nature of the power afforded to the line of Azure Dragoons, then he would be branded a heretic faster than the spear hurtling towards him. 

He stayed his ground, and then spun at the last moment, catching Julietta on her momentum, wheeling his lance round so that it screeched against her armour, weakening it. To escape further onslaught, she leapt high in the air. Estinien followed, her spear was ready for him, but fire blazed brightly from his lance and scorched her, causing her to stumble when she landed back down. Dragon’s blood roared in his veins, and he sent a powerful Geigerskol wave thundering across the arena and tearing into Julietta. Even those sat upon the raised ring of seats shuddered as the impact rolled against them. 

Still, she rose, and he leapt high to capitalise on his advantage. She was too slow to follow this time, and watched him warily as he descended. His landing sundered the foundation beneath them with the impact, and the stones loosened around the side of the arena. Julietta parried the brunt of his attack, but her lance was severed by the strike. 

It was short, brutal, and effective. Julietta raised a hand in surrender. The Astrologians sprinted towards her and cast their healing magicks on her. She limped weakly to him. Though she had lost so soundly and so quickly, she was grinning. All the skills he had used were those not normally prevalent in other dragoons. It was the power of dragons coursing through his veins that allowed him such mastery. 

“Teach me.” She begged, before she went back to Lord Durendaire’s side. 

“That was… decisive. I find it all the more imperative that you become more diligent in your duties as Azure Dragoon and instruct our order. As you said, survival of Ishgard is imperative, and it would help all the more if you did not hoard your superlative skill, and instead passed on your knowledge to those who could assist in our war against the Dravanians.” Lord Durendaire said, his voice commanding and authoritative in the large room. Estinien begrudgingly admitted that he had a point, and had solidly turned his own argument against him.

“Very well. It shall be my honour.” Estinien said. Inwardly, he groaned. He despised playing the role of teacher. Aymeric had best appreciate this…


	8. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of smut ahead

And appreciate it he did. He showed as such in as much passion as he could muster. Kisses were furiously peppered across Estinien’s scarred skin as they sank down together in bed that night. The Azure Dragoon barely had time to tell Aymeric what had transpired before the new Knight Commander all but dragged him to his bedchambers.

“How I wish… I was there… To see it.” Aymeric panted between having his mouth all over the other man. “To see you.”

In truth, Estinien was a little flustered to have such praise and attention lavished all over him. For Aymeric to be so solely focussed on him and him alone. This was different to other times. Normally he was in more control, but he found himself desiring more of Aymeric on him, over him… In him. To submit to his dominion and let him take do as he wished. It was trust, he realised - trust he had not given to another throughout his entire life.

“I only said very little.” Estinien murmured as Aymeric’s mouth ran up to the crook of his neck, kneading at the sensitive flesh there. “People want you as Knight Commander.” He insisted, though his mind was becoming increasingly distracted from the conversation.

“And I want you, Estinien.” Aymeric growled. A hard length pressed against the dragoon’s thigh demonstrated his words. “Now.” The commanding tone of finality was naught like what Estinien had experienced in Aymeric before, and it sent thrills pulsing down his spine. To be below him, with such needy lust in his lover’s eyes. To have him growling his name when it was normally the other way round.

Hands latched onto his hips in a bruising grip, and Aymeric’s head bowed down to take his cock all the way to the hilt in one swift motion. Estinien cried out, hips jerking of their accord but Aymeric’s hands had them clamped down already in anticipation. He felt his cock twitch as the Knight’s tongue circled all over it, the head, saliva dripping down and a hand pumping at the base. The Azure Dragoon groaned needily, his hands buried deep in ebony hair. There was no teasing, no withdrawing when he was at the edge of climax. Aymeric was insistent on coercing every needy moan out of his lover and giving him as much pleasure as possible. He was relentless and overwhelming in his onslaught of passion. 

“I can’t…” Estinien said with gritted teeth. “Keep going… With you like this.” Aymeric glanced up at him through thick lashes. Those sapphire blue eyes so sultry and so knowing. 

“There is more I wish to do with you.” His lascivious tongue licked him, from base to tip. “But for now, I want your release in my mouth.” He murmured. He then redoubled his efforts, lips tight around Estinien’s cock, and his tongue so insistent on unravelling him. It was enough that Estinien felt his willpower crumble, and submitted himself to the release he knew was clamouring to escape. He gasped as his cum spurted into Aymeric’s throat, then groaned as his lover coerced every last drop out of him. A very pleased, satisfied expression on his face.

Though he barely let Estinien recover from his orgasm before he bore down on him again kissing his face, his lips, his jawline and the silver hair around him. Feather-light fingertips ran up and down his scars in just the way the dragoon liked (though he would never admit to such.)

“We will… need to – mmhmm – keep an eye on the Heaven’s Ward.” Estinien managed. He was honestly concerned about the new Knight Commander’s safety, but Aymeric was very persuasive with his intentions before the dragoon could get a proper conversation out of him. Aymeric paused to glance at the windowsill. The infamous helm and legendary lance of his Azure Dragoon lover lay boldly upon the ledge, daring for Ishgard to intervene with their relationship. Throughout the beginnings of their ill-defined couplings, Estinien had scowled at the prospect of skulking about and hiding their dalliances. But in public, in front of all the nobles and authoritative figures in Ishgard, he had all but announced their relationship. He believed it was the strongest root he could make for them – to unashamedly admit it instead of it growing and festering as a shameful rumour that would instead tear at the integrity of the man he cared so much for.

And when Aymeric turned back to look at him, it was with such an intense possessiveness that he almost felt overwhelmed again. Even if his spent cock did twitch a little at such a predatory gaze. 

“They would not dare do anything drastic. Not with you by my side.” The new Knight Commander stated. And it was the softness and adoration in his eyes that made Estinien melt a little. The lifetime of tenseness and vigilance always seemed to ease in Aymeric’s presence.

“And I damn well won’t let them.” Estinien caressed the side of Aymeric’s cheek and met his eyes. Those sapphire eyes were waiting, watching him so knowingly, longing for him to say those words. 

But instead of saying those words, the dragoon pressed his lips against his tenderly. Though it quickly deepened into something more hungry. More needy. He felt Aymeric’s hard length grinding against him and the moan he made from the back of his throat made Estinien crave for more. He passed the oil to him, and Aymeric spared no time in lathering it at the dragoon’s entrance. It was not often that Estinien was the one being prepared, so he still gasped when a finger shot in, urgently finding its way and testing the hole. 

He hooked one finger and Estinien cried out, his body jerked with the sensation. Aymeric was merciless and he pressed on, doing it again. He watched the dragoon squirm beneath him with such voyeuristic pleasure. At three fingers, Estinien wantonly growled and fisted Aymeric’s hair, bringing his face close to his. Close enough to see the beads of sweat and wild, dilated pupils. 

“If you do not begin thrusting inside of me soon, I’ll – argh!” 

Aymeric more than gladly acquiesced to his begging before he finished his sentence, his lathered dick gaining entrance and the Knight giving Estinien a rather smug smile when he clung to him, nails digging into Aymeric’s broad back.

“Fury take me - agh!” Estinien gasped. Another sharp thrust. This one driving all the way home so that Aymeric was fully embedded to the hilt. And then he was moving, precise and slow. Bent over Estinien to claim his mouth, his jawline, his neck… The dragoon felt hands and fingers tenderly brushing his skin. Every inch of uncovered skin as close to one another as possible. Enough to feel the heat, the sweat and the scars on each other. 

And then Estinien realised why it was unlike the other times – they were making love. 

He returned the sentiment. Pressing Aymeric against him so every ilm of skin met, feeling the pulsing of his cock deep within and yearning to feel every bit of him. One of their hands met, and fingers intertwined. Pace increased, and Aymeric murmured Estinien’s name against his ear. He moved his well-muscled legs for a deeper angle that had Estinien groaning in pleasure. 

“I’m close.” Aymeric gasped. His pace had become stuttered, desperate. 

“Give in.” Estinien urged. It was the permission the other Knight had been craving. He gave the dragoon a soft smile, and then grabbed his hips and thrust hard and fast. Aymeric cried out as he came, and emptied his cock into Estinien. The white liquid seeped out, though Aymeric remained embedded as he gathered the other man into his arms, stroking his hand through silver hair. 

They both lay there, panting and happy, letting the sweat trickle down their skin. Aymeric kissed Estinien some more, light and lingering with their faces pressed close. A thumb caressed the dragoon's cheek, and then Aymeric rose to clean them both up. 

“I can certainly see what possesses you to become so… deliciously feral in that kind of position.” Aymeric said slyly, running a hand through Estinien’s white hair when he laid down beside him again.

“Mmhmm.” Estinien responded. Still enjoying the post-coital sensation of peace and relaxation. Every muscle relieved of tension, for once. 

“Are you alright?” Aymeric asked after a moment.

“Of course. I have no doubt I will feel it in the morning, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I love you.” Aymeric admitted, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. The dragoon's eyes widened, and then he closed the gap and claimed his lips tenderly in response. But Aymeric withdrew and pulled him away.

“Estinien…” He chided. 

“I’ve never known you to decline such advances before.”

“Estinien…” Aymeric repeated, this time with a playful smirk.

“Come now. Have I not shown you in my actions? I would not delve into thrice-damned politics for just anyone, you know.”

Aymeric merely continued smirking at him in response.

“How much more do I need to prove it to you?” Estinien asked.

Still nothing but a knowing smirk.

“I love you as well, you Twelve-damned fool. Now let me kiss you.”

“Gladly.”


	9. Defend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't quite forget about this work. Just... had a lot going on. Oops.

Aymeric’s promotion to Knight Commander had been fraught with contention, and there were many – particularly members of the Heaven’s Ward – who did not wish to see him attain such a position. So it was, that Estinien took it upon himself to prowl along the rooftops of the Congregation to ensure that no fools attempted to sabotage the proceedings. Or worse, tried to assassinate the man he cared so deeply for on the day of his ascension to his much-deserved office. 

He peered into the stained glass windows, watching silently at the modest banquet laid out – Aymeric had done his best to suppress the enthusiasm of the caterers, noting that those in the Brume were not nearly so fortunate. So they organised to deliver a portion over to the Brume to distribute evenly among the folk there. Even the decorations were muted somewhat. Estinien had been in the Temple Knights long enough to know that such an event was normally bursting with extravagance and displays of decadence. It was good to know that Aymeric had refused to continue with such a tradition. 

He heard a sound behind him. Atop the roof of a building behind him. It appeared that his caution was not unwarranted. He noticed a shadowy shape lingering by one of the ornate stained glass windows that were embedded in the roof. The moon shone on the other side, so that their shadow could not be detected. With one swift jump, Estinien had the trespasser pinned beneath his lance. But a leg swept out and struck him off-balance, a flash of smoke, and then Estinien was scrambling to deduce the direction they had headed in. 

He leapt to the surrounding rooftops, and then spotted them heading South. He caught up easily, but the cloaked interloper turned suddenly to deliver a punch to his jaw. He dodged, causing them to punch his armour instead – a fact that hurt them more than it hurt him. With a growl, he leapt on them and pinned them down to the floor. The hood had been thrown off, and he noticed she had a third eye in the centre of her forehead. 

What in the Twelve was a Garlean Spy doing here? She raised a hand and fire poured from a contraption upon her wrist. Estinien snarled in pain, and thrust his arm into a pile of snow before he chased after her again. With his jumps, he was able to catch up with ease, but damn was this spy slippery. He used his knowledge of the city’s layout to eventually trap her against a dead end in the Brume. She unsheathed a sword, and circled warily. With his increased reach, he struck first, but she parried expertly. He dove from above, and it seemed she was unused to such an attack. He levelled the tip of his spear against her throat, but he knew Aymeric would want information, that he would want to know why a Garlean spy was here in Ishgard, and somehow use such knowledge.

Without hesitation, Estinien swept his lance down in one fluid motion and struck her unconscious with the blunt end. He carried her prone body back to the Holy See, where she was placed in the dungeons until Aymeric’s coronation had finished. Satisfied she was imprisoned behind the bars, he headed back to resume his watch over the new Lord Commander.

…

Aymeric had swept his eyes across the hall multiple times during the lengthy ceremony, hoping to see Estinien. The dragoon had told him he was seeing to ‘security arrangements,’ and Aymeric was not naïve enough to believe there would be no need for such things, but he still yearned to steal a glance at his lover during such an auspicious occasion. But the vaunted Azure Dragoon had been absent from start to finish, thus far. 

However, if being the lover of Estinien Wyrmblood had taught him anything, it had taught him that if he couldn’t immediately see him, he should look up. 

And there he saw him. Nestled in the crook of the beams in the roof, just next to one of the windows. The dragoon had been looking in his direction the entire time, and when Aymeric met his gaze he gave him a soft smile. Though Aymeric returned it with a look of consternation. Estinien’s armour was battered and scorched from a recent battle. His hair was untidy, and wisps had spread around him in unruly strands. The legendary helm of his rank was cocked up on the beam under his arm. By Halone, he really could not last a few minutes without getting into some fight or another – and probably on his behalf no less. Strange that the sentiment made his heart grow fonder, rather than exasperated. He just hoped it would not cause some sort of diplomatic incident.

After the ceremony, and talking to the various busy-bodies and sycophants that made his way to him, Aymeric finally forced his way to the back of the hall and walked from the Congregation and into the night air of Ishgard. He breathed in the cold, fresh air, finally free of the pressing crowds and insistent voices. Estinien had dropped from the roof and already fallen into step beside him. Gossipers behind them practically frolicked as they watched the two exit the Forum together. Their speech heightened exponentially in volume when Estinien glanced back with a smug smile, and placed his arm around Aymeric’s waist in a very unambiguous manner.

“Congratulations, my Lord Commander.” His low voice near enough to Aymeric’s ear to send tingles down his spine.

“A shame you couldn’t spend the occasion by my side. For once I would have welcomed your sharp tongue levelled in the direction of some of these sycophants.”

“I thought you always welcomed my sharp tongue?” Estinien returned, leaning in closer so his breath tickled Aymeric’s ear. He brought up his gauntleted hand to-

“By the Twelve, Estinien, my dear.” Aymeric exclaimed with a pointed look at his scorched gauntlet. “You need not fight every dissenter that speaks against my promotion. People are entitled to protest.” 

“I didn’t, in fact.” The Azure Dragoon said. “I found a Garlean Spy watching the proceedings. She is rotting in the dungeons now. I thought you may want to meet her.”

…

“Tell me of the Garlean Empire, if you will.” Aymeric asked. Lucia looked up with confusion. She had expected an interrogation, torture, perhaps. Certainly it was what she had prepared herself for. After studying Ishgard, as she had, she found its people to be almost matching the Garleans in terms of warlike temperament. She hesitated, thinking the phrasing of his question to be a trick.

“Surely its reputation has spread throughout Eorzea by now. Our superior technology, our skill with Magitek and the breadth and width of our Empire.”

“I’m aware of their invasion of Ala Mhigo, and the accounts of their conquests spread far and wide, indeed. But what is it like in Garlemald? What are Garleans like? How is their nation formed?”

Lucia sighed. She was an expert in subterfuge and high-risk operations. Not a tour guide. Still, she was somewhat at his mercy, and she had suffered far worse interrogations. In fact, she had performed far worse interrogations herself. And there was the menacing presence of a tall elezen covered in spiked armour and wielding a wicked looking lance. She sensed power within them both, and decided to at least acquiesce to such a trivial question, vulnerable as she was at current.

“Much like Ishgard. Disciplined. Regimented. A military focus instilled from birth.” She answered truthfully. 

“Do you like it there?” Aymeric asked. His tone was not hostile, though his posture was still guarded. This was no naïve fool, despite his strange niceties in dealing with a spy from a hostile nation. 

“It is my home. The Empire I serve, if you think to set me against my own people, then your efforts will come to naught.”

“Tis not my intention.” Aymeric shrugged carelessly. But Estinien knew enough behind the man’s cold, calculating gaze to know that even the feigned indifference was intentional. Aymeric was playing at something, here.

“And why spy on the Lord Commander’s coronation? I doubt such a thing is of much use to Garlemald.” Estinien finally spoke, folding his spiked arms across his chest.

“I shall not reveal my superior’s orders.”

“You don’t need to.” Aymeric laid back in his chair. “Tis obvious enough why you are here. Garlemald’s agenda has always been clear – that of conquest and expansion. Ishgard have been waging war against the Dravanians for centuries. The Garleans think us to be weary and tired, and seek to capitalise on it to conquer us, and use us as a gateway into Eorzea proper.”

To her credit, the Garlean’s face betrayed nothing. But it was obvious that Aymeric’s deduction was on point. Estinien had drawn the same conclusion himself. 

“So you’re here to identify our weaknesses. To needle a way into our fortress, so that the Garleans can conquer us, and then move onto the rest of Eorzea. And what motivates this wave after wave of expansion? Why does Garlemald seek to churn all of humanity into its machine of war?” Estinien asked.

“Ishgardians are hardly ones to talk, in such a regard.”

“We fight to survive, against beings centuries and millennia old that are unable to forgive. Whose hatred for us will see us all exterminated. We do not seek to conquer.”

The spy was quiet again. Her face going back to that blank mask that was in place before. 

They left her, knowing they would get nothing more out of her for now, and headed back to Aymeric’s manor. 

“You have a plan.” Estinien accused with a knowing smile.

“Oh yes. She listened to us. And she does not approve of Garlemald’s regime. Nor does she care much for her superiors.”

“Oh? You deduced that much from her?”

“I did. She may have come here as an enemy, but I believe she could be an ally.”

“Aymeric, for a man who has been hounded by his nation and his people his entire life, you place a lot of trust in the strangest of places.” Estinien said as he opened the door to the manor for Aymeric. The steward greeted them, but Aymeric told him to retire for the night. 

“Is that in reference to you?”

“Well.” Estinien shrugged and took of his helm, hooking it under his arm. “I’m not generally the kind of person that people flock toward. In fact, if you recall our temple knight days, more often than not, I repel them. Further evidence of your madness, in my view.”

“’If I recall our Temple Knights days – indeed! Twas only two years ago. We are not old men to tell tales around a campfire. And Estinien, they were not ‘repelled.’ They simply did not know how to handle someone who did not stick to tradition and blind obedience like they want all their Knights to. Especially those not in the highborn echelons.”

They went into Aymeric’s chambers, Estinien began unburdening himself of his armour. “You speak truly, of course. The Knights repulse me, in turn. You see how terrified they are of them in the Brume? And they believe me to be the brute.” Estinien scoffed, and then he turned and looked at Aymeric, still in his ceremonial garb, all but unnoticed until now. His eyes widened.

“Your particular brand of brutishness is with sharp words and sarcasm. Rather than oppression and – whatever is that gawking face for?” Aymeric jibed playfully. Estinien caught himself staring, comically halfway through removing his armour.

“I suppose I did not notice just how resplendent you looked until now.” Estinien murmured softly. “It would almost be a shame to disrobe you of such attire.”

Aymeric cocked his head at him and smirked. "Oh really?"

“’Almost’ I said.” The Azure Dragoon grinned wolfishly and advanced.


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some minor changes to canon, I know. Nothing major. Apologies for sporadic updates. Also if anyone could tell this noob how to do italics on this website, I would be very grateful :)

Aymeric went down to see their Garlean prisoner alone, this time. Estinien was more insightful than most gave him credit for, but the Lord Commander had a feeling he would get further without his intimidating presence at his side. His intuition called for a more subtle touch – he would face the Azure Dragoon’s berating later.

“You operated as a spy here in Ishgard - what did you learn about Ishgard?” He asked once he had sat down, cross-legged in her cell. He had dismissed the guards, telling them he was perfectly able to fend for himself. Lucia had no weapons on her, and did not show any inclination to attacking him for now. But most importantly, he wished for their conversation to be utterly private.

“Tis a city of polar opposites. The wealthy four houses throw decadent parties while the poor toil below them, freezing in the Brume. Ishgard prides itself upon its martial prowess, while being confined to this one city – all but a couple of its outposts having been claimed by frost or their mortal enemy. You are embroiled in a losing war, but your religious zeal blinds you to that reality.”

“Hope is a powerful motivator. Unfortunately, ‘zeal’ as you put it, seems to cause more tragedy than acts of heroism.”

“Are you not a part of the Ishgardian Orthodox church?”

“Not the malformed version that now dominates our city, nay. The teachings of our saints are very different to what is now practiced.”

“Garleans have no religion. It has always been an illogical thing for us to rely on the grace of the Twelve, when they never deign to lend aid to anyone – whether they be wounded, dying, stricken by disease or well within the warrens of poverty. Best to attribute fortune to the skill and ingenuity of humankind, than to place such trust in Gods that seem to show only ill will.”

“There is still space for the Twelve, but I agree that relying upon the ingenuity of our own designs comes first and foremost. It is my intention to change the principles upon which Ishgard operates.”

“I was under the impression the Arch Bishop alone wields such authority. How would you bypass that?”

“I command the Temple Knights, the defence of Ishgard and the armies at our disposal. Should the Dragonsong War come to an end, I can use that to usher in real change in our nation. Change that even the Arch Bishop would need to acquiesce to.” It was a weak and futile hope, even Aymeric saw that. Lucia was not convinced either.

“This city is firmly in the palm of the Holy See. Their prejudices and traditions are the city’s prejudices and traditions.”

“Ah, so you see it too?” Aymeric leaned back and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Something I find quite interesting is how you have never said anything about what weaknesses the Garleans will exploit when they inevitably conquer us. Not one single taunting remark about how we will be crushed under the endless machine of Garlean armies. I have met very few Garleans, but the ones I have met were very… zealous themselves in that regard.”

“I’m not foolish enough to reveal Garlean plans.”

“Not ‘our plans,’ but ‘Garlean plans?”

“Is there a reason for your fixation over semantics?”

“Yes. You are an exile.”

Lucia snapped her jaw shut before she retorted. Her eyes flared angrily. It was all Aymeric needed. 

“An exiled Garlean finding a place to live in Eorzea – her country’s mortal enemies. It would certainly make you difficult to find, if you were being hunted.” He continued. Lucia scowled, her hair obscuring the third eye resting in the centre of her forehead.

“Aye, it’s true. I was once trained as a spy, though I… fell out of favour. I did not think for a moment that anyone in this land would believe me if I claimed to be exiled from my country.”

“Rightfully so. But they need not know. You will need some armour more befitting of a Temple Knight, of course, and some sort of article of clothing or armour to obscure your third eye…”

“Are you mad?”

“Such a prospect has been insinuated rather frequently, as of late. But I can assure you my sanity remains intact.”

Lucia smiled. “If it is being insinuated so frequently, perhaps you ought to question it more closely?”

…

Estinien was away when Aymeric returned back to his manor. It was perhaps for the best, as his lover was the type to draw lances first and ask questions later. The quarry he brought with him was shrouded in robes and a hood drawn down over her features. The guards had been informed that the prisoner was to be executed as a heretic without public knowledge – for fear of causing alarm.

His manservant was well trained and asked no questions. The De Borel heir had oft brought home guests who were suffering, injured or otherwise incapacitated in some way. Aymeric showed Lucia to the armoury where he had already procured sets of armour suitable enough. 

“Your hair may serve as some disguise for your forehead, but some sort of band should be worn to cover it, just in case.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know what it is like to be an outsider from your own country.” Lucia eyed him curiously, but seemed satisfied with his answer and gave him a curt nod. She turned and began donning the Temple Knight regalia, clasping it into place. Then there was the sound of a different type of armour moving behind them. 

Aymeric turned and his gaze fell upon well over six feet of spiked dragoon regalia. Obscured face glowering. And the lance was drawn. 

“Explain.” Estinien was always one to prefer one word to a fully formed sentence.

“Lucia is an exile. I believe she can help us.” The Garlean herself had spotted the dragoon, and had her hand subtly edging towards some a sword sat upon a plinth.

“Help us to our own graves, perhaps. Are you truly so foolish as to trust a Garlean?”

Aymeric’s mouth became a straight line. A schooled expression of rigidity. He should have explained his plan to Estinien before. Should have known he would be so… overprotective. Lucia remained silent, sensing that her involvement would only incense things.

“Estinien, I need allies, not enemies. And the former are not exactly in high supply within our city walls. Perhaps it is time to look outside of Ishgard, rather than from within. Trust me.”  
The dragoon hesitated. For one second. Then two. And then he sheathed his lance.

“I do. But by Halone do you test me at times. We will speak upon this matter some more later.” With that he stalked from the room. His back straight and his gait stiff. All signs that revealed Estinien was furious.

…

‘Later’ happened to be that evening. Lucia had been allocated a bunk within the barracks, and was a new recruit within the Knights. Aymeric had devised an entire story explaining her application and appearance, and she had played the part perfectly. It was evident she had trained as a spy, once. But what remained a mystery is how she was exiled from Garlemald, precisely. 

Estinien had paced in Aymeric’s quarters until the Lord Commander was forced to abandon his paperwork in order to retire to bed. The dragoon still wore his armour – a bad sign if Aymeric ever knew it. 

“Your life is already at risk.” Estinien growled at him as soon as the door shut behind him. “And you seem determined to put it at even further risk.”

“My intuition tells me that this will give us an ally with no reason to betray us, and all the reason to remain loyal to us. She gains nought from consorting with the Holy See and the Archbishop, and has everything to gain by remaining our allies. Lucia is trained as a spy, and I can think of no one better placed to be the eyes and ears we cannot be, for all our fame.”

“You better be correct. I don’t trust her. And I can’t watch your back at all times. My duties as Azure Dragoon consume much of my time and my blood sings to rid this world of Nidhogg – ever more so with each passing day. It seems impossible to be guarding you as well while you continue upon this path of recklessness.”

“Tis not recklessness, Estinien. And I assure you, I am no fool. Trust is not always a weakness, although you would never believe such a thing.” 

Estinien turned his head to him and spoke very softly. “What is that supposed to mean?” Steel eyes bore into him. 

Aymeric tensed. It was the calm before the storm. He wished he could undo his words. His brain worked desperately to smooth things over.

“Just, trust me with this. Please. You cannot be my only ally, as you said, you are stretched thin enough as is. I need someone else who can keep an eye on our enemies and keep us a step ahead.”

Estinien remained stone-statue still. His arms folded and his expression unreadable behind that damned helmet. 

“I trust you.” He said, in that same soft voice. “Tis others that I do not trust.” He looked towards the window. Aymeric inwardly cursed, knowing that every instinct in the dragoon’s body would now be urging him towards fight or flight. And the Lord Commander knew the signs. He stepped closer to his lover.

“Estinien, if-“

“I need some time. I have duties to do.”

And he opened the window and leapt from the balcony all before Aymeric could draw a breath response. He reached a hand out in futility, only to grasp the icy steam that the open windows allowed in. Yet again, Estinien was gone. Still, the conversation had proceeded far better than the Lord Commander had anticipated. Considering how incensed his lover had been at the situation.

But there was one matter that still plagued Aymeric. Nidhogg. Estinien had always admitted it was his focus, and Aymeric had noticed the influence of the eye on the Azure Dragoon growing as of late. His training became rigorous and over-zealous – even for Estinien. Solo excursions into Dravanian territory were more frequent, and the wounds and scars he bore back from them were more severe. He noticed how often Estinien’s eyes were fixed to the West, to where Nidhogg’s brood flocked. Noticed how those eyes burned with the desire to see vengeance enacted. Aymeric only hoped it would not consume him, but he feared it already had.


End file.
